


Coming to reward them.

by J_Shute_Norway



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: AU to my AU, Diary., Different formats., F/M, First person., T.A.M.E. Shock Collars (Zootopia), Teen version over on Fan-Fic.net., Third person.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-10-07 07:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 195,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10355622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute_Norway/pseuds/J_Shute_Norway
Summary: Two decades ago Nick Wilde and his family fled Zootopia, escaping the laws and prejudice that tainted their lives.Two decades ago Nick Wilde and his family settled in a land far away, hope in their eyes and the wind in their uncollared necks.Two decades ago Nick Wilde left Zootopia, but now he's back.He's on a mission, and nothing can stand in his way.Not even a certain Bunny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Fic is an AU to ZTOP, so reading the first 9 chapters is essential to 'getting it.' At the same time, some plot points much later on are benefited by you reading ZTOP in its entirety. At the same time, you may want to check out 'Believe in me Baby', this Fics prequel.
> 
> I've already been publishing this on F.F.net, with a teen rating. For all intents or purposes, bar one or two certain scenes and a more tidy appearance with fewer authors notes, this story is no different to that one.  
> .
> 
> So, why am I writing this Fic?
> 
> The short answer is that I want to explore the TAME collar concept more, while the way I wrote ZTOP gave me a giant opportunity to do so. At the same time, this Fic allows me to explore not one but two very unique story ideas (that I found very interesting) which, to my knowledge, have never been done before.
> 
> I also wanted to experiment with new styles of writing and such and, taking inspiration from the Jacoto's epic 'Fallen: the lost story of Zootopia', I've chosen to write one of the story lines in a first person viewpoint (interestingly, his present stuff is first person and past stuff third, while mine is vice versa). Another inspiration for the past and present story lines is 'Zootopia: Death becomes you', by Darkflamewolf.
> 
> I had loads of other ideas for plotlines, jokes and stuff. As a result, I wanted to put them out there, even if in a recycled form. Many more exist in my head, and after this Fic I hope to move into publishing smaller, more concise self-contained stories, exploring more diverse ideas and scenarios (although note, when planning an AU of ZTOP where Nick never escaped jail, I ended up at 15 chapters...).
> 
> .
> 
> Note, if you aren't thrilled by chapter 1. Please give chapter 2 and 3 a chance. You may find that chapter 1's storyline and style doesn't float your boat, but chapter 2's first person one quite literally does. or maybe you just want to go to chapter 3, and nosy around in Judy's diary.
> 
> .
> 
> I aim to publish chapters on Saturday's and Wednesdays, and I promise that there won't be any unannounced pauses. Any of you who followed ZTOP as it was released know full well that this OP delivers. Finally, I'd like to thank those who've helped me. From the reviewers of ZTOP, to my great proof reader Ultimateblack, to the all round epic guy Jacoto (the same who's writing fallen) who did my cover art and, finally, to Wildburr who let me use some of his ideas later on in this work.

**Chapter 1:**

.

Two decades was a long time. Long enough for love and loss, of great aching pleasure that screamed out in the mountains and darted through the burning flames at night, or tore your heart out so hard that it never quite healed, painting the world forever greyer.

.

It was long enough for people to forget names and places. Names like Nick Wilde for instance, which had long since vanished from the minds of mammals who once knew him here, back when he was young and living his old life. So, too had John Wilde's formal ware, a place once full of warm musty smells and laughter, reduce to a burnt out moulding heap. Nick had checked it a long time ago, but he didn't care that much. He'd long forgotten about the little details that had made that house a home.

.

But it wasn't long enough for forgiving and forgetting, was it?

What they'd done to him. His kind. What they'd been forced to do and risk. What the oppressors continued to do every single day without a pang of sympathy and guilt, instead having the cheek to always take the moral high ground. Their hate so strong that they could trample the heads of fellow mammals into the ground, look at them scream in pain and, as they brought their feet down harder and harder, say with complete sincerity that _they_ were the good guys.

No, a thousand years wouldn't be long enough, would it?

But soon enough, they would be getting a piece of justice. However small it may be, it was long, long overdue.

.

So thought the solitary Red Fox standing on the pebble beach, his gaze fixed ahead at the city in front of him. It had been more than two decades for him, almost twenty-four years since he'd last called this place home. But had it ever been home, really?

Two decades was a long time, but it wasn't long enough for people to stop hating. The city in front of the lone Vulpine still hated him, and every other Predator it housed, with as much venom as it had when he left its god-forsaken shores. The Prey majority still regarded those that once hunted them with apathy at best and a mix of terror, suspicion and hatred at worst. The collar around his neck, its cold black plastic and sharp edges pinching his skin, designed to torture him if he dared get too emotional, was evidence enough of all that. A collar that had driven so many out of this place, ' _where anyone could be anything…_ ' The hard-learned truth was that 'anyone' meant 'Prey', and if you weren't some plant muncher… Well, ' _anything_ ', along with a fine selection of exertive, exciting or simply Pred-hating careers, excluded things like happy, or free, or respected, or even being an owner of a good and full life.

All had to be sacrificed for the greater good of peace and safety, or as he thought of it, slating the hunger of the Prey mammals' eternally raging inferiority complex. They were so hung up on the events of the savage ages, that they ignored their fellow mammal's perfect capacity to live civilized lives. They ignored their tranquiliser guns and repellent sprays, which levelled the playing field. They ignored the fact that no mammals had eaten others in thousands of years, or the avian and reptilian civilizations where former pred and prey lived together in perfect harmony. Not even the occasional trampling spree by an Elephant or Hippo, often committed in the heat of a burning rage, could shake their conviction. No, that was a civilized rage you see? It was committed due to pressure being piled on and on and on. You can't compare that to the uncontrollable savage impulses of a predator, can you?

Instead they sheltered themselves behind the collars and their walls and passed the misery they caused off as a perfectly reasonable part of life. Albeit, not their lives. Those whose lives had to bear it were ignored and side-lined, forced to carry their miserable burden for all but five glorious years of their life. Even those got tainted somewhat, seeing as the establishment had those little ones primed and excited to receive their noose. Even the lone Fox had been like that once, hopping up on down in glee as his father held back his tears. In less than a day he would know why his father cried and what it meant to be a big-Fox. And so, for three more years he lived a half-life, until a dream became true and they left it all behind, never to wear one of those things again.

But here he was, back with his people's badge of shame tied tight around his throat. Back again, after nights of praying to let his work begin. Back to do an unmentionable deed, or two…

He almost chuckled to himself, remembering what he intended to do and how he'd make the perfect Saturday morning cartoon villain. Sometimes you couldn't make it up, but even this city would think of him as some unoriginal speciesist parody if it knew his plans. What he planned to take. Who he planned to take from.

There was even a coy smile as he imagined himself with a curly moustache, tying the damsel in distress to a rail line while he monologued his plan or something. Maybe he could indulge them in their fantasies? However, the thought of the costume shook the idea from his head. He'd always been taught to respect clothes, and knowing them well he knew which costume would be better for this endeavour.

As one well-rehearsed in the importance of keeping yourself groomed for certain occasions, a purple or black and white suit with a big black top hat just wouldn't do in this day and age. Instead, his suit was a charcoal grey, the sleeves held together with silver cufflinks while a white shirt poked from beneath. Everything was stiff, clean and firm; the only thing missing from it being the 'new suit smell' which had sadly long since gone.

With a dapper fedora resting itself on his head, and a jet-black briefcase clasped in his paws, he would not let his enemies in this city typecast him as the cartoon villain. No, they would see him in the corner of their eyes, off in that line in the station, and see him as the suave silent mastermind. Being a villain in this town didn't cause the Fox no mind, if he'd never left he'd have had to work his pads to the bone to be seen as anything but one.

So, he would be a villain on his own terms, he'd be the enigmatic secret one that annoyed the hell out of any over-eager prey that tried to tie him down. Soon he'd leave this place for one last time, his mission complete, with the fools left bitter and furious as they bore witness to the means of his plans. If they saw the ends... now that was something completely different. Dare he think it, they may even think of him as a good guy?

Like all things in this city, the Vulpine knew that taking things at face value was always a mistake. A costly mistake. One which could strip you of everything you love or hold dear. He was reminded of his father talking a long time ago about how that almost happened to him; how they could have lost everything and more before they gained it had it not, of all things, been for a blueberry pie and a coin toss. It was a grave thought, unsettling his cunning mind so much so that it was picked up by the abomination around his neck. Or at least, it would have had it not been subject to a few specific alterations. Shaking the grim idea from his mind, Nick instead focussed on the things that reminded him of a simpler place.

.

A kinder place.

.

Home.

.

.

Stretching out his claws, he let his feet settle down into the fine shingle he stood on, the rounded stones cold and moist against the tough black skin of his pads.

.

Just like the beach at home.

.

He wiggled his toes and let them rattle through the stones, massaging the skin and helping to peel off some dead flakes. The stress balled up in his toes slowly relaxed, with the relief warmly flowing out from his feet and up into his spine and even his face. Nick couldn't help but smile slightly, a happy sigh escaping his thinly parted lips.

.

.

They stayed shut as he drew in a deep, deep breath and let the cold moist air, laden with the faint sting of salt, flow up through his nose and up through the depth of his muzzle before it pooled down into his lungs.

_Just like the air at home._

It made him feel so much younger, the sharp sting of the salt waking him up, as if charging his batteries. There were the strange hints of pollution too, with the sulphurous sting of car fumes and the drifting smells of millions of other mammals. Nick paid them no mind, instead imaging that it was the cool smell of trees and forests, along with the warm tingle of wood smoke that was making his nose hairs twitch.

He let his ears swivel slightly, filtering out the murmuring noise of city life and focusing in on the soft sound of waves breaking into foam on the shingle.

_Just like at home._

Checking his watch, the fox took a step back, his pads shifting on the shingle as his weight moved, before turning and striding back towards the shore. A quick tug at his tie, and there was little else to do but meet up with one of his new business partners. A new business partner for him at least. A very, very old business partner, the first in fact, for some others he knew. Climbing up the sea-wall and leaving the beach behind, the Fox wandered up to the road and a waiting car, before giving the black Jaguar driver a cursory nod and setting off. With a swish of a tail he was in, the door closing firmly beside him with a precisely engineered and perfectly executed _thunk_ and _click_ , before they set off. The engine purred loud, like the driver in front of him would have were he free, as they silently travelled through dark and potted streets towards the city proper.

"Mr…"

"Just call me Nick," the Fox coolly replied, relaxing as he watched the black Jaguar up front turn back to the road, slowly and carefully gliding along the tarmac. He certainly enjoyed being the mysterious villain, but being this dapper all the time was certain to take its toll. So, he laid back, almost exaggerating his relaxation by kicking his feet up and opening up a bag of crisps, taking his time to slowly eat them one by one.

"Do you want any music, or the radio?" the driver asked again, each word painted by his rich Hispanic accent.

"Just put the news on please."

There was a click and hiss, before the radio sprung to life.

_"And in other news, the ZPD are still asking for more information on the mysterious terrorist group calling themselves 'the knights of the muzzle'. This comes as 5 more Predators, all residents at a local Orphanage, have disappeared, their abduction claimed by the hate group. Pop superstar Gazelle is leading the call for more mammals to come forward with any news they have on this terrorist organisation. In an interview, she said that its actions were 'a stain on every decent Prey mammal on this city' and that the ZPD and mayor's response has been disgraceful. Chief Bogo of the ZPD has responded to the accusation, stating that his men and women are dedicated to protecting all mammals of the city, both Pred and Prey. Mayor Swinton, meanwhile, has refused to comment and…"_

The radio cutting out as they entered a tunnel, the sound of the engine's soft humming filled the air again as Nick gave out a small chuckle, before turning back to the driver.

"Do you know what's sad?"

"No, Sir," the driver courteously replied, his eyes fixed dead straight on the road. His reply made the fox behind him smirk a bit, his head cocking to its side as he looked on with a growing smile, before responding.

"Please," he said dismissively, "I said before, call me Nick…"

"Yes, Nick."

"There you go! Now, back to the sad part. The really sad bit is that there are TWO sad parts, or three if you think about it… Anyway, the first sad part is that this, yet another disappearing in the long list of thousands of preds, is relegated behind the infamous words 'and in other news.' Really shows how much they think about us, doesn't it?"

"I suppose… I suppose it does," the Driver murmured, before turning back. "And what is the second sad thing?"

"The fact that I took seven."

The Driver turned back to face Nick as they exited the tunnel, the radio picking up again halfway through the first music track after the news. His green eyes scanned the vulpine, studying him as they look up and down, before he shrugged and looked forward.

"You do good work," he said, before his voice turned dark with foreboding. "But I fear that you are getting too cocky."

The Fox, almost taking it like an invitation, shuffled himself deeper into his seat and rested his feet high up on the front passenger seat, before giving the concerned driver his cockiest grin and a mock salute. "Please… I'm in my element here. I…"

"You are TOO IMPORTANT!" The Jaguar hissed, his cool demeaner gone and replaced with a mix of anger and concern. Nick meanwhile didn't even flinch, as his lecture continued. "You are the hope in the darkness for every Predator in this city! You hold our future in your paws, and you play with it! Why can't you be mature! Take yourself seriously! What would your father think if…"

"He'd probably chuckle at his son's antics," Nick coolly replied, "seeing as he knows his son only does these things in private. If you're worried, just remember that when I'm under their gaze, I am mature. I do take things seriously."

"Really?" the driver enquired, his tone showing that he was very much unconvinced with the Fox's assurances.

"You know that, you love that…" the vulpine in the backseat said back cockily, before his sentence morphed into a long, loud yawn that lasted the better part of ten seconds. He closed his gaping maw and looked forward before shrugging. "Don't think I can't handle all of this, you know better than that," he finished lightly, but with a faint threat in his words that was all too clear.

The Jaguar dismissed the Fox's words, scowling and shaking his head harshly, before muttering out his thoughts under his breath. "You seem to treat this all like a game, don't you? I'd say the fact that mammals could die due to your cockiness doesn't even cross your mind."

The Fox's smile vanished as he lowered his legs and stood up straight, his gaze and tone hardening menacingly as he spoke, each word laced with bitter anger as they came out slowly, one after the other. "I know how important what I'm doing is. I know more than you can ever do!" He paused for a second, the break almost a perfect opportunity for his collar to turn orange, before carrying on. His fury was beginning to show as a low growl began to escape his throat, "Don't you DARE say I'm not taking this seriously! Don't you EVER suggest I'm taking this lightly! And never, ever suggest that I don't care about mammal's losing their lives. Because if you ever do… I'll teach you the definition of savage!"

The car was filled with silence for a second or so, until the discrete _Beep_ of the Jaguars collar could be heard, its amber light glowing darkly in warning. With a nervous gulp, he turned back to the road and flicked the indicator as he pulled in, a courteous smile on his muzzle.

"Your destination… Nick…"

The Fox stood up, a wide smile on his muzzle as he walked over and exited the vehicle, before turning back to the driver. "Come back in an hour so… and please, turn that frown upside down!"

The Jaguar give a concerned glance before turning back to the road ahead, and driving off into the distance.

.

"Mr Wilde?"

The call pricked Nick's ears, bringing his attention to a large set of sprawling tables and chairs scattered in front of a café. Wandering past the tables and chairs, filled with mammals who gave him bad looks or diverted their gaze altogether, he finally settled down on a small-mammal sized table, sitting across from a brown Water-Vole dressed in a grubby tracksuit and parka.

"I believe this is the first time we've…" Nick began to say, opening his paw out in welcome before the Rodent replied back, in an voice that seemed too high pitched, squeaky and fast for a mammal even half his size.

"Certainly is… though I worked with your father for a long time."

A smile grew on the Fox's face as he leant forward, paw outstretched to shake. "Indeed, though did he ever tell you about a certain Fox custom…"

"No," came the deadpan reply, as the Vole took Nick's paw, or rather one of his fingers, and held firm, shaking it before sitting back down.

"Well, from now on just call me Nick."

"Likewise, call me Tattletail," the tiny rodent replied, before lifting his right eyebrow as he looked up at the fox in front of him, before giving a muted chuckle. His antics paused, however, as a deer waitress trotted over with two plates, on full of steamed greens and grasses, the other full of crispy mealworms. She paused slightly, glancing down at Nick, before giving a subdued shrug and placing the latter plate down with a conspicuous lack of care and attention. The former plate however, was carefully slid into position in front of the vole, who took the nearest piece of water reed and began casually munching on it, slowly drawing its length up into his mouth.

"You know…" he began to say in a muffled voice through his half-stuffed mouth, "they gave me the weirdest look when I ordered that."

"I can imagine…"

"Of course, a quick flick of the almighty buck…"

"Praise him! Praise him!" Nick half-heartedly interrupted, giving thanks to the mighty god of capitalism, his paw flicking in the air, while watching a grin grow across his companion's mouth.

"And I thought your father was bad…"

"You don't have to live with him."

The vole paused for a second, before carrying on. "How is John's health by the way?"

"Fit as a fiddle," the Fox replied through a mouth full of food, before reaching for a napkin and wiping the crumbs from his mouth.

"Good. But please, don't think you have to be that formal around me. I'm nothing special, I…"

"Considering all you've done for us over the year," Nick began, his tone becoming firm and serious as he leaned forward to look Tattletail in the eye, "I'd say you're very special."

"Listen," the Vole nonchalantly replied, still chewing through his tough greens as he talked, "I'm nothing special… Well, I have a certain very special set skills. But at the end of the day, I'm nothing but…"

"A Bum?" the Vulpine enquired, his eyes looking down at cheap and baggy clothes his companion was dressed in. For his part, he seemed genuinely touched by the remark and even took a break from his food to respond.

"A Bum? You're too kind… I was going to say scum, but it's great to see that some mammals see so highly of me."

"And why wouldn't I?" Nick asked, shrugging as he did so. "You're Zootopia's greatest thief. The one who stole us the first collar keys so many years ago. You risked so much, for some filthy little old chompers like me."

The small rodent chuckled slightly, before taking a bite out of a bulb of some kind, chewing it intently and savouring the taste, before turning back up to Nick. "What did you say earlier Nick? Something about the Almighty Buck…"

"Praise it, Praise it?"

"Yup, that's it… And while very private and modest, I assure you that I am a very devout worshiper… and in terms of worship…"

Nick merely rolled his eyes at the statement and hauled up his briefcase, letting it drop onto the table. It shook with the weight, the cutlery and crockery on top rattling about before the Fox swivelled the briefcase around and opened the clasps on the front, letting it open slightly give the vole a cursory view on the contents, a smaller briefcase about the size of an A5 sheet of paper and about three-quarters as thick as its larger brother. The rodent's brow furrowed with displeasure as he looked at it, before he looked back up at his customer. "Given how much I already know you, may I assume that it's suitcases all the way down? If it is, then please don't do this again… I've had a very bad history with babushka dolls, and I don't want any of _those_ flashbacks to return."

"That would be a story I'd want to here," Nick replied, chuckling as he did so.

Tattletail just slowly shook his head in return. "Trust me, you don't. Anyway, as for the payment?"

Nick merely smiled and worked his paws down to the smaller briefcases latches. With two clicks they were undone, and the small rodent's eyes were lit up with reflected light. He seemed very pleased…

"You are one for style…" he chuckled, his paws held firm together and rubbing each other intently with glee. "How much?"

"Twenty-two and a quarter Kg…" Nick replied as he pulled the smaller briefcase out of its parent and laid it down on the table.

The Rodents eyes half lidded as he pulled the lid down and hopped up onto it, pattering forward to look Nick in the eye. "Translation please, Dingus."

"50 pounds-ish."

"… What do you think I mean by translation," he grunted impatiently.

Nick just looked on, shrugged and smiled. "Modern Mammalian English to Anglotross-Saxon…?"

The water-vole groaned and swivelled around, walking back to his food and grumbling all the way. "You're worse than your father you know that… I'm beginning to see why people don't like Foxes…"

Nick just looked on with an easy smile, before giving asking a question in his slyest voice. "You know you love me…"

"Do I…" was all that came back, before the rodent stuffed another root into his mouth and began munching away, filling it well up by the time the Fox chose to speak again.

"At current prices, just over $10,000…"

There was a violent cough as Tattletail spewed out a bunch of half chewed greenery and turned back to face Nick in the eye, a sly grin on his face.

"I do believe, Sir, we have a deal…"

"I'm glad to hear that," Nick replied, a giant grin growing on his face. "Now… you know what I want?"

"Yes I do…"

"And you know where they keep it?"

"Yes, and I know that no Fox, or any Pred for that matter, has earned the permission to get close, though not for a want of trying of course. This is going to be hard Nicholas. Don't doubt that. Nigh on impossible without an inside Mammal."

Tattletail paused for a moment, letting the seriousness of his statement settle in, only for Nick to begin to chuckle. As the Vole's eyes grew wide with confusion, Nick leant over and patted him on the head with a finger, before leaning back in his chair with his arms stretched and folded behind his head.

"You don't think I wouldn't have prepared?"

"Okay," the Vole replied, his mouth curling up at the edges as he prepared his reply. "What's your Wilde… Card?"

Nick was silent for a moment, rolling his eyes, before groaning slightly and leaning forward. "That's both bad taste, unoriginal… and out of date…"

Tattletail gave a non-committal shrug, before giving his dismissive reply. "I'm the best thief in Zootopia, not the best comedian. Now, who in this city do you plan to use? What kind of Prey mammal would support you? Why would they want to support you?"

"I could ask the same of you, Mr 'erbivore," Nick replied, leaning in closer as he took up the verbal offensive. "But I've been looking through the records and I'm pretty sure I'll be able to find a few Mammals who want what only I can give, a fresh start. A blank slate."

The Water Vole paused for a moment, before looking away. "If you want to know, I was dear friends with an old Badger… and the Godfather to one of your newer otters. I have my reasons. I know right from wrong."

"And yet you still steal…"

The Vole looked up, his gaze and tone hardening, as he grabbed and chewed the last of his food, his tail swishing about in irritation. "I have a moral compass that I follow. May not be up to proper code… but just be glad that electrotorture is on the bad side…"

"Will do," Nick replied, before tipping his bowl up and sliding the remainder of his meal into his mouth. He chewed the crispy insects for a moment, before swallowing and looking down at his new partner in crime.

"It was a pleasure meeting you at last."

"Likewise…"

"Anyhow, I think I have a ride to catch" Nick announced, his gaze shifting over to a familiar Limo waiting in the background. "Got my contact details?"

"That I do…"

"Then," Nick began to say as he stood up, straightening his suit and tie, "I'll be off." And with that, the Red Fox left the restaurant as if he were a polite business mammal returning to work. His face was entirely serious, apart from a small grin that formed as his ears pricked up, rubbing against the side of his fedora as they swivelled around to try and catch the angry tirade from the Water vole. It seemed that he'd finally realised the limitations of trying to carry a suitcase a hundred times his own body weight, thought at least he seemed to be taking it in good humor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

.

**_Spring, 1993._ **

.

"LAND HO!"

My ears pricked as I heard the call, sending a rush of excitement through my body. Pulling myself up from my drawings and scribbles as I looked around, I waited to see if it was real. I wasn't sure if it was true or not, but I was so, so hopeful. Today was supposed to be the day…

"LAND HO!"

No, this time I was certain. It was real, this was it!

I leapt to my feet in an instant and raced out of my family's cramped cabin, all cluttered up with our possessions and furniture, and leapt out into the corridor, pivoting on my pads as I skidded to a halt before turning to race down it. The whole ship was moving about, rolling on the waves and shaking with the hum of the engine, but over the last days I'd got used to it. My Dad said that I'd 'got my sea legs', but all I knew was that running from the bow to stern of the ship in the middle of a big storm was FUN and I was good at it. Having survived that day, I was able to race up the cold stairs, missing a step with each stride, without the slightest loss of balance. Up the first flight, and then the second, and then out into the bracing wind of the open deck.

The smell of salt was everywhere, filling up my nose and racing through my sinuses and down to my lungs as I scurried along the slippery deck, passing friends and strangers alike as I went. There was a family of otters, a hulking grizzly bear and even a Honey badger who was sunning herself on a worn deckchair. I'd seen her many times before, even before we got on the ship back in Zootopia. Madge was the older sister of Honey, who was one of my best friends at school. However, she was a few years older than us so I didn't know her that well, although from what Honey told me she was very nice. I paused, thinking about talking to her, before I remembered the call and turned to the front again, racing up the stairs to the ships bridge. Without thinking I slammed open the door and raced in, past some of the smaller adult mammals and weaving and squeezing through the legs of larger ones before reaching the front. I leapt, scrabbling up the control panel before standing up and looking on the vista beyond, my eyes wide as they looked on.

At first I was confused, tilting my head to the side to see if I'd missed something. There was the sea, of course, spreading out to the horizon all dark blue and choppy. There was the light blue sky, filled with fluffy sheep like clouds. But there didn't seem to be any land, until my gaze wandered to the left and saw it. Far off in the distance, smaller than my smallest finger, lay a brown and grey smudge of rock, sticking out of the sea all by its own. It was a bit of a disappointment, given all the things I'd imagined, but I couldn't say that I'd been lied too.

"Do you like it?"

The question came out of nowhere, startling me slightly before I gathered my thoughts and turned around, a grin on my face big enough to match that on the Fox who I faced.

"It's a bit small Dad…"

He just chuckled, smiling some more like he always did, before latching his arm around me and hauling me over to a large table, covered in maps and surrounded by other Predators. Setting me down on the table, he stood tall and look around, before clearing his throat and speaking.

"Fellow Predators. We've been sailing due East for four days, keeping on the same path after leaving Zootopia."

He paused for effect, before extending a claw and tracing a line along one of the charts. At its start was the wide-open bay of Zootopia and, after cutting through a long path of blank paper, he paused just to the left of several small islands, scattered across the empty sea. His claw dug in slightly, swivelling around as it dug further into the paper, before lifting up and tapping the bottom of a long and thin island just to the north.

"I believe that our little bit of land there is the southern tip of this island here," he announced, hovering his finger above it. "It's the second largest island in the group, about 70 miles tall but at most 18 wide. That means we won't have any big rivers and, with the look of those cliffs, I don't think we'll find any good places to anchor up." There were general murmurs of agreement around, the adults in question agreeing with him, before he carried on. "The island to the east, however, is a different matter." My ears flicked up as he finished speaking, recognising that sly little tone that always meant he had some plan up his sleeve. It was never nasty or sneaky… unless it involved an incoming tickle attack, but it meant that he'd got some big idea that he was proud to show off. I smiled, excited for what was coming next, as Dad continued speaking.

"It's the largest of the group, about one hundred and forty miles tall and about forty wide, with a big coast sheltered from the storms by the island we're just passing. The North, east and south, from the old records I picked up at the library, are mountainous while the west was 'thickly forested'. That's where we're going, we should see it in about an hour and a half and be there in the same time again. We can then turn north and carry along the coast, until we find the perfect place to land… All good?"

There was a pause, before everyone began speaking and yelling and calling out, but all their words were in agreement, all in on the plan just as they had been from the very start. Even back then, back in Zootopia when Dad had crouched down to face me and tell me that the plan was going ahead, no-one seemed to have any complaint or worry.

Over one weekend Mum and I had gone from shop to shop, to the library and the garden centre, always on our feet as we gathered each and every item on our long list. We often bumped into other Preds with a similar long list, and they all smiled back and carried on with their job at hand without a doubt or worry on their face. By Sunday evening we, and the other hundred or so mammals, had placed everything we bought and everything we could carry on the waiting boat, already filled with supplies. We stepped on and, in the dead of night, casted off. No one was sorry to leave the city, even though we were leaving our homes and many other friends behind. Instead they'd all looked forwards and, when the collar keys came around, screamed and cheered in joy.

I was still dizzy from that night, having spent the whole time dancing and screaming and shouting and whooping and all sorts of other things that were loud or fun. Me and my friends, finally out of our nasty horrible collars that zapped us whenever we wanted to do that, could finally be kids and each had three years of kid stuff to make up for! Mum and Dad had fun too, and all my friend's parents as well. They'd put on their loudest and most exciting music, and danced badly and kissed sloppily, playing just like us and almost looking like they were having as much fun as we were. They drunk quite a lot too, well except for Finnick's parents who never drank alcohol. They still had fun though, Finnick's older brother said that he saw them in their cabin wrestling, and the way they walked in the morning seemed to prove it!

All this had been Dad's idea. He'd been the brains, the one talking to other Preds and spending time hunched over maps or books or making up lists or doing maths… and by maths I mean the really hard maths with letters in it! They'd trusted him so far, and they weren't going to stop now. As for me, I'd love him and trust him till the ends of the earth, and follow him there too! And so, he and I stood up at the helm of the ship like we had four days ago, my paw on the wheel and his occasionally flicking in to help a bit, only this time we were sailing towards a new home rather than away from an old one.

.

As we sailed on, the sun rising higher in the sky as we did, the bit of land to our left got larger and larger, until we could make it out as this big, sharp knife sticking in the ocean, with cliffs and hills hiding behind it. Soon it was behind us, and a dark green smudge could be seen looming on the horizon like a great bank of clouds. As it grew larger, we saw it split up into hundreds of other features. Mixes and mashes of greens, from all the different types of trees. Pale green mountaintops in the far-off distance, some with a dusting of white on top, while the white streak of sand on the coast could be spotted. But as we got closer my tail began to droop as I realised, for the first time since setting off, that something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Where will be park the ship, Paps?"

The question was out of my mouth as soon as I thought of it and, looking up, I saw his ears raise and eyes look at me. But then he gave me _that_ _look_ , and I knew that everything was going to be fine. That everything was going to be OK, because my Dad had a plan! As we got closer, close enough to make out the individual trees and the foam of the waves breaking on the thin beach, the engine of the ship slowed down and, far off, I heard the rattle of the anchor chain as it was lowered down into the sea below. Silently, with just a wave of his paw, Dad beckoned those in the bridge to follow him as he stepped out and back onto the deck.

After pausing to let me scrabble up onto his shoulders, we were soon making our way backwards, towards the stern of the ship. Everyone was up now, out of the cabins and the holds and they were all talking, all excited, their words mixing into a great racket loader even than the waves hitting the ship or the thrum of the engine. All of them were looking at him, their heads turning to follow him and see what new trick he had, but as I saw all the eyes looking our way it felt that they were looking at me too.

For a moment, I felt a spot of shyness, wanting all the eyes to move away from me. It reminded me far too much of the times when teachers asked me out loud if I'd cheated on a test, just because I'd studied hard for it and done well. It reminded me too much of the times when I tried to defend poor Honey from the bullies at school who picked on her, only to get so worked up that I got shocked and I was suddenly that bad guy. I'd look up at all the Prey mammals, other kids and teachers, and just curl up into a ball as they stared angrily down at me.

Then, for one horrible, horrible second, I was the scared Kit following his Dad through the city, shying away from the angry or suspicious glances of mammals all around me who could see that I'd got zapped, my first ever zap, earlier that day. Back on the boat my fur bristled up just like it had been on that day, and as the other Preds seemed to morph into angry Prey, my arms and legs were twitching just like they had been doing back then.

They didn't care that I got it because I was terrified!

They didn't know that a gigantic Rhino holding me tight and squeezing the life from me!

They didn't care that I'd only got my collar earlier that day, and having been super excited about being grown up, only just began to understood what being a predator meant…

Instead they'd just see me as the bad guy, no questions asked, with their eyes burning shame into me. As a splash of a wave brought my back from the past, I looked up at the eyes looking at me and my ears twitched, almost hearing the collar that wasn't there going back up to orange, ready to hurt.

I knew deep down that this was silly, that these were good mammals and friends, but I still felt a bit shy. Rather than look at them, I turned down to look at Dad's neck, the area where his collar used to be. Unlike the rest of his lovely red fur, it still looking a bit tired, worn and sad. So, reaching down with a paw, I began rubbing and massaging it, helping him to relax. He didn't say it, still busy with walking, but the way his brush wagged and flicked left and right told me that he was enjoying this! Smiling, I leant down to give the area a get well kiss only to be thrown forwards as he ground to a halt, flinging me onto his muzzle and pulling my eyes up to the level. My ears went back and eyes went as wide as they possibly could, as I set them on 'the plan'.

Our ship used to be a big fishing boat, that had sailed out into the sea to catch all the yummy-scrummy fish that we ate. But after the Prey mammals in charge of the city said that we Preds couldn't catch 'too many' fish, it had been sold to a scrapper to be cut up. Good thing that that fellow was a Pred! He was standing with us now, just a little way to our left. He'd let us use the ship and, as well as putting in new cabins and loading up the holds with our supplies, he'd welded on some big flat metal panels along the left side of the boat, running from bow to stern. I hadn't thought about it first but now, as a large remote controlled plane was being hauled into position, it suddenly made sense.

"Khalid? You ready for this?"

"Yeh!" came an unmistakably deep voice, as Finnick's father, a darkly tanned Fennec Fox about my size, wandered out. Instead of his usually clothing, or the 'tea towel' as my father called it to annoy him, he wore a simple shirt and pair of trousers, with a snorkel mask without the snorkel pinned tightly onto his face. I paused for a moment, shifting back onto Dad's shoulders as Mr Ibn-Zerdain (as we called him when we were being polite) jumped up into a seat fixed in the front of the plane, before he started fiddling with the instrument panel in front of him. Cocking my head to the side didn't give me a better look so, scooting off Dad's shoulders, I ran over to get a closer view. Up close, the fact that it was a remote-control plane became even more apparent. The controls that Finn's Dad in front of him happened to be a remote control that had been glued in place.

"I do hope you guys got this tuned up, right?" he called out, eyes scowling as they looked over at Dad.

My Paps just shrugged, _that grin_ , growing on his face as he spoke. "Don't worry, just a bit of tweaking. Anyway, we still have the original remote."

Mr Zerdain just grinned and spoke back, "Yes… The wonders of Elephant-mart…"

"Almost big enough to match your Ego…"

The little Fox's ears dipped down in annoyance, and in one sharp motion he pulled his goggles up and scowled up fiercely at Dad. Breaking eye contact, he turned around and looked past him and towards me, seemingly waving me forwards. It was only when five other Fennec's wandered past that I realised that he was giving them instructions.

"Cherifa my love," he began to say, holding the hand of his wife as her ears slipped back in worry, almost tipping her headscarf onto the deck. "If I do not make it, just remember how much I care for you. Look after the kits, keep them warm and well fed. Make sure you tell enough about me to little Tariq so that it's almost like he remembers me." He paused slightly, fussing the ears of the tiny little Kit in his wife's arms, his fur still as white as snow. Planting a kiss on his forehead, he looked up at the oldest of his children and spoke sternly. "Fenrick. I fully intend to come back, but if I don't you'll be the man of the house. I think you know what that means. Look after the family, lead them through the bad times and the good. You'll have to be brave, you understand that?"

"Yes, Father" The older Kit, only just ten, said as he stiffened up and raised his ears in attention before giving a nod in agreement as his father carried on, now turning to his one and only daughter, Finnick's big sister. He paused, almost unsure of what to say, before giving up entirely and just hugging her tight. After planting a kiss on her forehead, he finally turned his attention to Finnick himself, my best friend for life.

"Finnick, you have the most important job of all."

"Yes father…" he replied, already stretching his spine and ears up as tall as he could.

"See Nick's Dad over there?" he continued, pointing over at my Dad and letting a mischievous grin grow on his muzzle.

"Yes…" Finnick began, suddenly unsure of himself.

"This plane thing is his idea. If I crash, it's his fault… so that means, if I die, you're on…"

"Face biting duty!" Finnick practically squealed, as his father let out an evil chuckle.

"That's my Boy!"

And with that he pulled his goggles on and shooed his family away, practicing with the controls as a Tiger who I didn't know grabbed and spun the propeller at the back. The little engine on the plane sputtered and then roared to life, the propeller spinning around furiously and buzzing like a mosquito as the runway began to clear. The Fennec Todd tweaked around with his controls a bit, before ramming the throttle on full. There was a blast of wind as he took off down the boat, before the little plane took to the sky. It soared up like a bat, before tilting to the left and circling around us, wings twitching as it went. Finally, after a close pass where the pilot gave us a big salute, it turned and began flying off to the north. Everyone watching the spectacle, myself included, was cheering as the little vehicle begin tracking the beaches and vanished into the distance. Our ship itself began following it too, turning around and facing north before gunning the throttle and sailing forward, the whole thing shaking and thrumming while the engines threw black smoke from the chimney. The clapping and roaring slowly faded however, just like the drone of the little plane's engine, until the only sound was the lapping of waves on the boat and the odd sudden, painful squeal of static. I'd long since got bored and had been wandering around for a bit, before I heard my Dad shout.

"Khalid?" he suddenly called, drawing my gaze. He was hunched over a desk filled with radio equipment, a microphone in his paws and one of his ears filled up with a speaker that he'd rammed into it.

"Khalid, can you hear me?"

There was another pause, a silent hush falling over the boat.

"Mr Zerdain, this isn't funny."

I looked down to my right where Finnick was standing, his ears drooping back and his neck rippling as he gulped. I was about to speak when I realized that he was holding my hand, tight, before he turned up to face me and spoke.

"I don't want to bite your Dad's face off…" he said, his voice just a quiet hush with worry.

"Maybe you could just de-tail him?" I suggested, attempting to joke but my voice hitching with concern. I knew that if Finnick loved his Dad just a millionth as much as I loved my Pap's, he must be terrified.

"Listen…" my Dad continued, sounding strangely annoyed. "I can hear the engine…"

Finnick raced forward, closely followed by myself, and our ears picked out the tell-tale sound of the engine coming from the speakers.

"Is your side working?" called someone from the background, although my Father remained focussed on his task at hand. However, it was answered almost immediately by a deep chuckling from the other side and a massive sigh of relief from the other crowd.

"Finnick!" cried out the speaker, causing the Fox in question to leap up to meet it. Hooking his arms around the rim of the table, he scrabbled furiously for a few seconds before my Dad gave him a quick boost up. After giving him a quick angry glare, probably annoyed about being helped when he was _this_ close to doing it himself, Finnick turned to the radio and spoke.

"Dad?"

"Terrible news son…"

"What!?"

"… It's looking very unlikely that there'll be any teeth based face removal today." As Finnick's ears and tail drooped down in disappointment, the Todd on the other side gave a hearty laugh as my Dad moved himself back into position.

"Any good sites yet?"

"…No. It's all straight beach with small round cliffs and no shelter. I'll carry on though."

"Anything else to report?"

"Well, it's like the timberlands down there… Lots of big steep hills though. And I can just make out the islands northern mountains up ahead… looks like some big buggers to me. Top quarter still white, any idea how tall they might be?"

"From the old charts I think the tallest is just over two thousand metres."

"Well, if I find a damn place for us to settle, I'm sure Honey or someone will find time to work out a way to measure it."

Both he and my father gave a short chuckle, before his voice faded, instead replaced by the hum of the plane's engine. Once more, everything became eerily quiet, the largest sounds being the murmur of Preds talking to each other in hushed voices and the thrumming of the engines, until a sudden load rumble startled me up straight. Both Finnick and I turned to face it, and our eyes set themselves on its source, our Cheetah friend Ben (or rather his stomach).

Breaking from the crowd, we ran towards him to meet with him, only getting faster when he saw that Honey was with him too. The two made quite the pair, the short stocky honey badger with a scraggy denim shirt and white top standing next to the tall, thin cheetah in a worn football T-shirt and shorts. A smile forming on his face, he turned and ran faster than any of us could dream of, although we had no second thoughts about chasing after him. He'd turn around here and there, blowing raspberries and taunting us, while our lungs burned and our pads began to ache as we raced after him. It didn't matter though, because just like the night of dancing and partying after we first got our collars off, any tiredness was gone. It was almost like we had pure excitement and fun running through our body, although Honey and her sister Madge called it 'Adrenaline', and it fueled us on and on. Weaving through the legs of other mammals, jumping over wires and ducking under pipes, we must have lapped several times around the ship before Ben went below deck, closely followed by the rest of us. It was dark and gloomy, but if anything, my eyes felt even less tired as they adjusted to the nicer light level, while my nose began working overtime to track him. Left here, right there, my ears always listening for any sound.

"Where are we?"

I flinched at the sound of Honey's question, turning around to shush her before pausing. Looking around I didn't know where we were, just that we were in a narrow metal corridor filled up with loads of cans and bags of food, their scents filling the air, with our cheetah nowhere in sight. Pausing, however, I looked for one of the weird little smudges that I could always see in my vision, knowing that it would help me work out where we were. Honey and the others always said I was crazy when I told them about the little shadows I saw there, as well as around magnets and electricity wires. I just called them crazy in return, wondering just how they _couldn't_ see something that was always there. In the end, my Paps explained that Red and Arctic Foxes were the only mammals who could see magnets, and apparently it used to help us hunt in the snow in savage ages. I'd never used it for that… apart from when I played pounce with my toys, but it did mean that I practically had a compass on me at all times. Which meant that, as I spotted the smudges down on the floor and, knowing that we were heading north, I was able to work out what way we were going in seconds.

"Follow me…" I urged the others, waving them along as I led the way, carefully sneaking along on all four of my pads as I followed the trace of Ben's scent. It was full of sweat and warm fur, but also a little bit of danger and a whole lot of sugar. Turning a corner, I suddenly got a much more powerful whiff of my friend and, coming up to a railing, I heard his panting from below. The smudge was still in front of me and, after silently shushing the others, I planned to use it for some fun. Grabbing the railings, I climbed up and peered over, teetering as I fixed my eyes and ears on the cheetah standing out in the open, his back to me. The smudge was lined up right over him, just right, and, coiling my legs up, I pounced! It felt so right and awesome, sailing through the air and then diving fast. Ben only managed a soft 'huh' as he turned around to face me before I was on him. The impact winded him, sending him down onto his tail, as my arms began their work. Scrabbling faster that they'd ever scrabbled before, even on my trips to Tundratown before I got my collar, I worked at him with a vengeful merciless fury!

By the time the others had got over it was too late…

Ben was a laughing, giggling mass on the floor, defeated by a fearsome savage tickling monster…

ME!

The others joined in and pounced on him too, tickling as fast as they could while he tried to fight back, his paws lunging into our stomachs and doing their best to tickle us into submission…

By the time we wore each other out and got back on deck, we were laughing and teasing each other, only stopped by a sudden call from up front. It was my Mum, up from the kitchens and calling as many mammals as she could to the radio.

.

By the time we reached it, weaving through the legs of larger mammals, we could tell that something good had happened. Everyone was excited and had huge smiles on their faces, talking to each other in happy voices.

It was something very good…

Dad was still fiddling with the radio, ramping up the speaker, before inviting Finnick's Dad to give everyone the lowdown. The flying Fox's voice was scratchy and fuzzy over the radio, with little tics here and there interrupting it. But we could make out what he was saying just clear enough.

"I'm right at the base of the northern mountains, where this nice little river meets the sea."

My Dad's ears twitched a bit and he moved in closer to the radio to speak back. "Is it big enough to anchor our boat in?"

"Let me finish John!" came the grumbling voice from the other end of the line, sending my Dad's ears folding back as he heard it. "It hits the coast at a right angle, with steep cliffs to the north made out of whatever the mountains are and waterfalls going off of them for hydropower… There's a big flat rocky bare patch overlooking the river and all, which seems to be the thing you wanted to build our homes on."

"Al said we needed flat, well drained land, so that sounds like it fits to bill," Dad eagerly replied, mentioning the builder Wolf who he said was in charge of building our new town.

"As for a place to anchor our ship, here's the best part," Mr Khalid continued, "You know those annoying cliffs on the islands west coast? Well it seems that the rock behind them is much softer. We've got this huge bay eaten into the land, surrounded on the east and south by nice shallow beaches, those mountain cliffs on the north and the sea cliffs on the west. We get our boat in through the opening, and it's safe from whatever storm can be thrown at it… We've found it boys. Our new home… It's perfect!"

A soft hush grew over crowd of mammals, before we all erupted in cheers.

.

It was dusk by the time we reached the spot the Mr Zerdain had found. Sailing up the coast, we'd finally found the opening in the cliffs he'd described. It was small, but still easily wide enough to get our boat in.

Close to our left stood the steep grey cliffs that eventually rose up to the mountains, the odd tree planted on top and one or two small waterfalls pounding down it. Up a mile ahead or so was the mouth of the river, and sweeping from it the south and west was a shallow beach with forests and rolling hills behind it.

There was even a flashing light on the shore, and soon a pair of otters were rowing out to pick up Finn's Dad. Even before he got back, the celebrations were beginning. Oil drums were being hauled out into the open and filled with bits of cardboard and packing crates before being set aflame. The whole ship soon glowed orange from the light while the heat filtered down through my fur and onto my skin, while the sweet smell of smoke flowed into my nose and through the roof of my muzzle.

It was just like the night when we'd left Zootopia, only even better! The music was playing louder and louder and louder! Everyone was jumping and leaping and shouting and dancing! Meanwhile, I'd grabbed a huge plate of food along with my friends, all planning to feast and then play some more later! With a load of the stuff piled onto my fork, I took a great big bite and began chewing the yummy goodness, only to pause as I spotted my parents out of the corner of my eye, dancing together. They were good… very good. Spinning and turning in tune with each other, taking one and other in their arms or my father holding mum up, her arms held out wide like she was flying. Their tails often twisted together, and their cheeks muzzled each other.

I just stood there looking, smiling at how much they loved each other. Then they began giving each other a great big sloppy kiss and I turned away. All that love and they had to ruin it with a horrible, slimy, disgusting snog…

"THE TODD OF THE DAY! MR ZERDAIN!"

I turned on the spot, my ears pricking at the cry from an unknown mammal, but within seconds I was cheering with everyone else as Finnick's Dad returned, a massive grin on his face as he paraded around in front of each other. Everyone, myself loudest of them all, cheered and clapped for him, only pausing when he held his hand up to speak.

"While it's nice to finally have the praise that I've deserved my entire life… I must say though that there is another Todd who really deserves the praise. The hero who gave us a future! MR WILDE!"

And then it was my Dad's turn to receive all the praise. All around me were mammals clapping their pads to the bone and cheering their lungs empty for him! My Pap's… a hero! Clapping and cheering furiously as I went, I ducked and weaved through the crowd till I reached him, before hugging him tight around the waist.

"I love you Pap's…" I said, as I burrowed my face under his shirt and further into his soft, warm chest fur. As I pulled in his scent, my favourite smell in all the world, I knew that I'd never been more proud or happy in my life to have him as my Dad.

It seemed like a glorious forever, but like the summer holidays it finally came to an end as the clapping slowly stopped. Untucking myself from him, I stood up by his side and gave him a quick glance, looking at how flustered he looked. But, after a quick pause to clear his throat, he stepped forward to speak.

"Ladies and Gentle-mammals… I'm… Ah what the hell… thanks guys. I mean it. I've never received a toast like that before. It truly is second most amazing expressing of thanks I've ever had, after, of course, Khalid Ibn-Zerdain giving me an actual, non-ironic complement!"

"Don't get used to it!" Came a deep call from the Fox in question, sending ripples of laughter through the crowd. Pap's just took it his stride, grabbing a glass of some nasty smelling spirit and holding it high, ready to give out a great toast.

"Now, you may reconsider this toast when we get to work tomorrow, given how much we have to do, but… FOR FREEDOM!"

"FOR FREEDOM!" the crowd roared back.

"FOR PASSION!"

"FOR PASSION!"

"FOR LOVE!"

"FOR LOVE!"

"FOR OUR FAMILIES AND CHILDREN!"

"FOR OUR FAMILIES AND CHILDREN!"

"FOR PREDATORS!"

"FOR PREDATORS!"

"TO THE FUTURE!"

"TO THE FUTURE!"

With that he downed his glass, took mum in his arms, and we all partied and danced fiercely into the darkest depths of the night. We were finally free from the collars, and ready to start over again.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

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_Judy's Journal. 12.03.16._

Opening notes:

.

Well, here am. It doesn't matter how many times I argued. How many times I told that stupid Guinea-Pig shrink with his extra scratchy pencil and ability to simply not get it (although at least he wasn't a Freudian obsessive, because that would have got a bit too lewd a bit too fast) that I DIDN'T NEED A DIARY! No matter how many times I said that was as sane as your garden variety march hare…

Well, it seems like I've finally learnt about knowing when to give up.

Because here I am writing in a journal! Not a diary, a Journal. If I'm going to have to lay all my thoughts out on a piece of stupid paper, then at the very least I get to bury it under actual, useful stuff. I'd like that stupid chubby-cheeked pain in the tail see my smug grin at that, HA! Dear god was he annoying though. I swear he was even prepping the Predator reversion panic button! I mean, what does he think I am, a killer Bunny?

Anyway, back to the topic at paw. Two weeks ago, I got called to a disturbance in the rainforest district and got attacked by a savage Jaguar. A literal savage Jaguar with slit eyes and down on all fours… I'm not going to lie and say that I wasn't scared (I mean, that fear was why I was referred in the first place), I was spraying my Fox-Rep at him like he was Gideon back before he got tamed…

And on a side note, my stuff STILL reeks of that stuff. We're a modern, technological diverse mammal super state and the makers of Fox Rep CAN'T create a formula that doesn't stink up your clothes for weeks on end? What kind of place is this, Primaiti? Although, thinking about it, I suppose that this is really one of those mammal-world problems.

As for our Jaguar, his eyes were turned into slits, he was on all fours and he was attacking anything that moved. Another Pred of late whose likely decided that all this 'civilization' stuff is too passé and decided to go _old school_.

Stupid uncontrollably aggressive less evolved dumb-dumbs…

Thankfully, his collar still worked and knocked him out before he had a chance to lay his paws on me.

The miracles of modern technology…

.

Like all the others, he reverted to normality after a night in isolation, and like several others said that he was attacked and felt a prick on him before he blacked out, before waking up in our cell. Now, this prick thing has been recorded in several cases so far, all on their backs. It's certainly interesting so, seeing as this is a journal and not a diary, I'm going to note down some ideas on what it could be.

 **1.** Insect bite: A leading theory, particularly among Preds, is that the Savage reversions are caused via a disease of some kind. Now, I'm sceptical of this for several reasons. For a start, many of the Preds have a natural bias against this being purely based on their own inferior biology, likely due to insecurity, and are unable to stop it from interfering with their professional opinions (which just goes back to prove my point). Never the less, a bite like this could be due to a midge, tick or mosquito spreading the disease. Of course, you then run into my second issue with the theory, which is why savage cases are so rare and, so far, few between. Now, remembering high school biology, this thing could be reacting with some hyper rare/ recessive gene that makes them vulnerable. For all I know, many Predators could carry the disease/ been exposed but only a few may be affected.

.

 **2.** Dart: One Predator said that he felt a tranquiliser dart or something hit him before he blacked out. I'm writing this off as paranoia or something, though I suppose it raises an interesting point. No cases of the actual savage transformation have ever been captured on film… although I suppose that's because we're not living in some big-brother state or whatever. This is Zootopia! Not Zystopia….

.

Zoodystopia?

.

Zoo(dys)topia?

.

Zistopia?

.

Oh parsnips… I'm getting side tracked again, aren't I? Keep it professional Judy. I know I'm getting a key new case soon, it'll either be this or the Knights of the muzzle…. Yeh, That's right! Judy Hopps making detective! I'm so excit… NO JUDY! STOP GETTING SIDETRACKED! I KNOW YOU'RE/I'M EXCITED! CARRY IT ON LATER…

.

Why am I even writing down my thought process on paper, for carrot's sake?

Why am I even asking myself this?

I guess it just must be so relaxing that I do it automatically. Maybe that irritating rodent had a point…

.

Well, anyway, if I get on the savage cases, I might as well try and get a closer look at these 'prick's'. See what kind it is.

.

 **3.** Alternatively, there might not be a physical prick at all. Maybe it's an involuntary reflex when they lose control, some reflex that occurs when they get too excited, just before their deeper emotions and natural aggression take over and then refuses to give back control. However, I've never felt anything like that when I've been super emotional. When Grandma died, or when I graduated, I was super emotional but, being an evolved Prey, I could be emotional in a safe, controlled, civilized way. I'm guessing that Preds may not have the self-control/ that hard limit on their emotions taking over, and our prick thing (if we even get one) occurs much further down the emotional line, maybe when it's too late and we get to the literal dying of a broken heart/ laughter level?

Or what about it being an evolved 'pre-collar?' Us mammals sort of got on for years before the collars were invented, although I REALLY wouldn't like to live back then. Far too scary. So, this Pre-collar thing would automatically give them a prick to remind them to be nice, just like the collar does now. Maybe collars have caused this to wear out and, with it, Predators self-control. Maybe the collars themselves are causing the Predators to become more aggressive?

Dude…

.

PAH… HA HA HA… Oh Judy, what's coming over you. What you going to do? Create a 70's themed web comic based around that whole idea? Judy, Judy, Judy. This is the last time you let the guys drag you out to a foreign movie night. I've had just enough of those Reptoslavian B-movies with their 'evil prey scientists', thank you very much. I mean come on, the collars are a good thing, they let mammals come together! Without them, Zootopia wouldn't be a city where everyone could be everything. Just because the bird Preds in Avaria, reptile preds in Reptoslavia (which is 90% pred or something) and the apes and stuff of Primaiti (which is all omnivores) are more evolved than ours, doesn't mean they can lord their progressiveness over all of us! It's not like they're letting masses of our Preds over to their place, letting them settle down and run about chomping without their collars on. Sure, if you're super rich enough you can move to Avaria which all the famous preds do (but even they admit that that place sucks if you can't fly). Maybe if you've been too much of an anti-collar bother, the Reptoslavs will take you in and paint you as a national hero or something. As for Primaiti, they can rest safe in the knowledge that their country is so crap that no pred would ever want to go there.  
In short, all hypocrites… I mean, we trust their word and let that lot visit us and even emigrate here! We don't even ask the few species that still eat other animals to wear collars! Yes, this is looking at you Avaria, and those big bald headed cannibals that run all your funeral parlours. OK, I admit they only eat long dead animals, but we let them in without collars! We take their word for it that they're 'safe', so they should take our word that our Preds have uncontrolled, savage instincts that need to be tamed. Those none-mammals have no right to go lording all over us about how the 'collars are evil'.  
Anyway, 'Evil Prey Scientists…' I mean who even came up with that idea? We're the good guys here, doing our best to let a dangerous set of species live with us. They should look up to us and realise that our Preds are grateful. I mean, it's not like in Primaiti where they wiped out the whole hairless apes genus 10,000 years ago or so.  
Instead they log into things like Preddit, claim they're Preds and make up mumbo jumbo about collars making life unbearable or ruining emotional moments or stuff. I bet half of those posts are made by lizards forced to do it at gunpoint in the Reptoslav gulags! For god's sake, it's not like the shocks are that bad, or that we're asking our Preds to put a giant lid on their emotions all the time. It's just a gently reminder here and there to keep them calm! I wish that someone would go through and ban all these trolls once and for all…

.

Oh sweet cheese and crackers…

I've become side-tracked again. THIS ISN'T A DIARY JUDY, IT'S A JOURNAL. PROFESSIONAL CONDUCT ONLY!

And again, why am I writing out all of my thought process. Maybe, just how some mammals speak without thinking, I write without thinking. It must be a weird personality quirk of mine, though it isn't very professional. Talking of professional… I'M A JUNIOR DETECTIVE, OHMAHGAWD OHMAHGAWD JUNIOR DETECTIVE!

… Ahem, anyway, this doesn't mean that I've got one of those cute stickers you hand out to kids, far from it! A proper Junior detective position in the JPD. FIRST BUNNY DETECTIVE HELL YEH! Now, I'll still be under the command of a senior detective. I'll be reporting to him, doing interviews and stuff. But, at the same time, I'll be suggesting different routes for investigation and doing my own research. This will all be supervised and, while I've already passed the exams with flying colours, there's so much more I'll be learning on the job. I think Bogo described it as more of an apprenticeship, although from what I gather he took a different path, working his way up the beat-cop ranks before becoming chief of police. Anyway, lots of hands on stuff as well as office stuff. Knowing _my luck_ , it'll be chucking it down on the days I'm doing the former and there'll be beautiful weather during the latter. Sods law and all that.

Parents are… worried to say the least. Poor busy bunnies, I love them but they should know by now that I can hold my own… _Literal Infamous last words_ as old Grandpa Basil would say, bless him. At least he's behind me in this, the glorious old Buck.

Here's to making the world a better place!

.

Now, as for who I'll be under… It's likely to be one of the horses. Oates with the 'Knights of the muzzle' cases, Shirelock Roam's with the Savage epidemic or D.I Horse and his assistant Shrewis in the homicide division. Whatever way I look at it, it'll be helping make the world a better place, although I'm particularly interested in the Savage epidemic. I feel so sorry for the poor Preds locked away in permanent quarantine, and hopefully, with help from the universities and medical service, we'll find a cure for it.

.

Anything else to note? Ah yes, I'm thinking about moving out of our Burrow and getting a home in Zootopia proper. Nice short walking commutes and it's got to be more peaceful than this place, hasn't it?

.

Anyway, Judy Hopps signing off for what's most likely the last time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

.

**_Spring 1993_ **

.

I wasn't quite sure when I'd woken up. It had been as black as it could get for a mammal with night vision like mine when I went to bed last night, and now it was sometime in the next day. All I knew was that my eye mask was off and I could see the glow of sunlight coming through the tiny porthole far up above. Despite still feeling stiff and tired from the partying the night before, I was most definitely awake. Carefully stretching up one of my arms, I grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it up, uncovering my head so that I could peek out over the rim of my basket and survey the room beyond.

The light coming in was terribly bright, almost bad enough to hurt my eyes, so I made sure to raise my head slowly and carefully, taking time to finally rest my snout on the wicker edge. I still couldn't help but shy away from the brightness, but I resisted the urge to retreat back into my den long enough to have a quick glance at the cabin in front of me.

The boxes full of our possessions, equipment and goods were still there, covering each and every wall. All of them were piled high on top of each other and tied up with plenty of rope to make sure the waves didn't throw them about and break them on the trip over. Peeking out from behind them were the same flaking white walls and ceiling, with specks of the cold iron peeking out from where the paint had long since gone. Mum and Dad were at the other end of the room, snuggled up together on their bunk with their arms and tails wrapped around each other. I looked on at them for a bit, seeing how they lay together snuggled up under their duvet. My head tilting sharply to the side so that it was level, and I scanned from their head to toe, thinking as hard as I could to answer the big question that filled my head.

.

No…

.

I still didn't get it.

.

How on earth could any fox ever be comfortable on a flat bed like that?

All the times I'd tried it, sleeping out flat like 'a grown up', I'd just rolled back and forth for half the night before giving up and rearranging the duvet into something more comfortable.

Something like a basket.

Yeh, people who said that baskets were dumb and for babies were stupid. Baskets were great for sleeping in, and that was just what I was going to do. As if in agreement, I felt myself suddenly taking a deep breath before muzzle stretched open in a tired yawn. Taking one last look at my parents, I pulled my eye mask back on, shuffled down into my little den and settled down to snooze. With my blanket covering me, and my soft pillow below, I was as cosy and snug as a bug in a rug. My body curled up, my lower half on its side and my top half upright and lying on my paws, my muzzle and nose covered by the fluff of my tail. Stretching and wiggling one last time, burrowing myself deeper into the pillow while the side of my head rubbed along the wicker, I began to feel myself drift off once again.

.

.

…

.

.

… Waidaminnit….

.

This time I sat upright in a flash, almost throwing my blanket clean off as I raised myself up on my front paws. Tearing off my eye mask, I blinked a few times as if this were all some dream, before pinching myself with my claws for good measure. No, this was for real.

Something was very, very wrong.

"MUM, PAP'S! THE SHIP IS SINKING!" I screamed out as loud as I could, before leaping out of my basket with more energy than I ever thought was possible at this time in the morning. Terrified, I started to race forward to shake my parents awake, only for my balance to fail as I ran across the sharply tilting floor. I felt my body go one way for a second, before it dragged my head down with it. I couldn't do anything to stop myself falling over, and I was immediately on the floor. My head, still moving, slammed hard against a big steel beam, sending my vision all dizzy.

It hurt…

Biting my tongue hurt even more.

But there was no time for tears or crying. I had to wake them up! Then we had to wake everyone up! The ship was sinking, who knew how long left we had? Something must have happened. Maybe there was a Prey agent on board, trying to kill us in our sleep? Finding out the cause would have to wait, however, as I reached my parents and began shouting and shaking them as loud as I could, desperate to wake up as soon as possible.

I screamed at them, their ears merely twitched.

I tore off their eye masks, their eyes began to flutter.

Finally, Mum groaned and stoop up, not looking too impressed.

"The Ship is sinking, Mum! Mum, the Ship is sinking!" I called again, and this time she shook her head from side to side for a bit, waking herself up, before setting her eyes on the sharply tilting room in front of her.

"Hang on, Nick," she softly said as she got up, planting her feet on the floor and walking past me to the porthole. I was quiet for a moment, all tensed up as she looked outside and a soft grin moved across her muzzle. On my part, my initial terror was briefly replaced with curiosity, head cocking sharply to the side as she wandered over the me and knelt down to hold my paw.

"It's quite alright dear," she softly said, "the ships not sinking. Far from it."

"But…" I began to say, until I remembered something. I glanced up to a nearby wall and, confirming my theory, it all made sense. Within seconds I was on the floor, laughing out loud and unable to contain myself. There was nothing else that could be done as the giggles and chuckles came out, completely out of my control, except to bang the nearby wall with my fist and wait until they'd slowed down a bit.

"That…" I began, before another loud laugh rolled out and interrupted me. "That, was a good one…"

"A good what?" I heard my Mum ask back, this time her head cocking to the side out of curiosity.

"Who… whose idea was it? I give up already… They win!"

"Nick…"

I paused this time, looking up at Mum who seemed very, very confused. I just smiled and pointed to a calendar pinned up on one wall. "It's April 1st Mum!"

Her lip twitched to one side, before a soft giggle came out. Holding out her arms, she picked me up and spun me around before I even realised what was going on, not that I was complaining, and raised me up to the porthole. As I looked out, and saw the muddy brown sand stretching up to the coastline beyond, I don't think I'd ever cocked my head as sharply as I did then.

"The… the Sea's gone?" I said, not knowing quite what was going on. "But how?"

"The Tide's out," Mum said back, as she lowered me back down to the floor.

"The Tide… I, I thought tides were small?"

She just shrugged and smiled. "I guess we have much bigger ones here. Why don't we go up on deck and have a better look?"

I nodded sharply as she made her way over to the heavy door, straining her back a she tried to pull it open, something the sharp tilt of the ship made even harder. She tried so hard, I even tried helping her, but with a huff she let go, panting as she tried to regain her breath.

.

"Oh my…"

Both our heads turned to look at Dad, who'd finally woken up. His eye mask in his hands, he scanned across the room with a perplexed look on his face before looking straight at Mum.

"Marie, I thought you said that you'd stop me from drinking too much?"

.

After a few minutes, everyone was properly dressed and, with the help of Dad, we finally opened the cabin door and slipped out. The corridors and deck were full of other preds, waking up ready for a day of hard work and play. Hopping up the stairs and onto the deck, I felt a rush of cool wind while the smell of salt flooded my nose. If I was tired before, it was all gone now.

"Nick…?"

My ears pricked up as I heard Finnick calling me from the other side of the ship and, after Mum gave me a quick nod, I raced over to meet him. I quickly spotted him. Despite his size, he wasn't hard to miss. He was bouncing up and down, calling my name, all while wrapped up in a thick fleece and with not one but two woolly hats on to cover his ears, seeing as he could get cold very quickly.

"Do you like what I did?"

The smaller Fox blinked a few times, head tipping to the side before he shouted back. "You did what?"

A wicked grin growing on my muzzle, I walked past him and scrabbled up the railing so that my head peeked above it. Finnick followed me, and set his eyes on the distinct lack of water in front of us. It was all wet sand, stretching out to meet the river, which seemed to be flowing backwards for some reason, before the steep cliffs rose up at the edge of the bay.

"You didn't do that," the Fennec said in a grumpy tone, and as I turned to face him he had a familiar scowl on his face. "Honey says it's the tides."

"I… uh…." I began to say, nonchalantly looking away from Finnick and up to some point in the sky. I was stopped, however, by a chuckle and I turned back to see my friend smiling.

"I'm not mad Slick! In fact, I won't even bite your face off!"

I paused for a second or so, my mouth hanging open, wide enough to almost hit the floor, in shock at the absurd statement I'd just heard, before Finnick burst into a fearsome chuckle and began rolling on the floor. Despite all his laughs, he managed to squeak out two words. "April fools…"

I chuckled a bit, before I heard my name and Finnick's being called. A big meetup was going on, and it was time to learn what kind of job I'd be doing today.

.

.

.

.

It turned out that most of the children and I would be working with my Mum. While we'd brought plenty of tinned and dry food with us, enough to last us a year if Dad was right, he was very serious about us using as little of it as possible. That meant, once we'd finished the cricket bars we got for breakfast, we'd by eating stuff we made ourselves. For a little while at least, that would mean fish and shellfish. Lots and lots of shellfish. Some, like scallops, were apparently deep underwater. The Otterton family had taken one of the motorboats out onto the high seas and were going to try and drive for them.

Other shellfish, however, lived on the sand. That meant that, as long as the tide was out, we'd be going around and collecting them. So, with each of us grabbing a bucket, a rake or a bottle of salty water, we climbed down the boat and set to work. The tide was already coming in and, as I jumped down the last little distance, I felt my feet get drenched in the freezing cold water.

"Eeek!" I cried, before feeling the tip of my tail go cold as well. Glancing back, I realised with horror that I'd let it dip into the water too. I pulled it up, but the fur was already doused in water and feeling very heavy.

"This isn't Pawaii Nick!" my mother called old, giggling as she did so, before I felt a sharp tug on one of my ears. Looking up, I saw Fenrick, Finnick's older brother, with said Fox and his sister above him.

"Mind…uh, carrying us to the shore?" he meekly asked, before Mum waded out to pick them up. With a soft smile, she carried them over to the shore where I joined them. My paws must have got used to the cold water, because the pawpads suddenly seemed cold again as I walked up onto the wet sand. But I didn't really care at this stage, instead noticing _just_ how soft the sand was. I wiggled about, letting the spongy softness massage my pads and work its way up between my toes, before I dug in and let my claws cut through the cool sand and burry themselves deep underground.

"Okay, Boys and Girls!" Mum called out, as she gathered everyone up. My ears pricked up to listen as I settled in with my friends Finnick, Honey and Ben. "Can anyone guess what we're doing today?"

"Beach combing!" I heard someone else shout out, as my Mum turned to face them and smiled.

"That's right! The bigger mammals will be busy building our homes and farms, so we need to start collecting food for them. While the Tide's out, we'll be going along this beach and collecting shellfish… Any of you eaten shellfish before…?"

The crowd went quiet for a bit, and Mum's smile turned into a small frown. "Too expensive," she huffed, shrugging as she did so before a smile returned to her face. "Never mind! No shortage here. Now, if I remember right from the books, there are three types of shell and one type of snail that we can collect here. You can find winkle's and mussels on the rocks, and if you do just pick them up and put them in your bucket. There are also cockles, which are buried in the sand…"

"Like these things," one of the other kids, a black bear, suddenly asked. He was holding up a small clam shell which he'd dug out of the sand. Mum looked at it and smiled.

"Yes, that's a cockle alright. To get them out, you'll all have to work in pairs. One mammal will pull a rake behind them, pulling up the shellfish, while the other will scoop them up into a bucket. Now… the last remaining thing we can eat is a razor shell. They're usually buried far too deep for us to rake, but I read in a book that there's a special way for us to get them out. Now if you all gather around, I think I've found one."

A hush fell over the crowd as we all gathered in close, smaller mammals like Finnick and I getting down on all four paws to look. Not that it mattered, seeing as I liked the feeling of sand on my pads. All our eyes were set on a small hole in the sand in front of us, which Mum began sniffing at.

"Now," she began, "these guys like salt water, but they don't like really salty water. Now, apparently, there's a trick to getting them out. You fill their holes with really salty water, and they jump out. Now, let's see…"

Carefully tipping a small splash of salty water from her bottle into the hole, she let her head cock to its side as we waited. The hole stayed still, then a bubble or two came out, then nothing. Suddenly what looked like a worm burst out, its head flopping over. Some of the girls in the crowd made eeew's or other sounds of disgust but I just said "WOW!"

I began crawling forward to grab it, but Mum held her paw up telling me to wait. I looked down on the clam, which remained still. Suddenly in slid up a few more centimetres out of the sand. A few seconds passed, then it slid up again, this time sliding up enough to show off some of its shell. A few more seconds, and it made one more push upwards.

Mum, deciding the time was right, grabbed it tight with her paw and pulled it. It didn't come straight out, instead trying to haul itself back down into its burrow. But Mum was having none of that and she hauled it out. The shell's foot, hanging beneath the shell, trashed about in defeat as Mum held it up, before walking over to the sea. Grabbing one of the buckets, she filled it with a little water before dropping the clam in.

"Now, we'll be working quickly as the Tide's coming in and we don't want to lose any shells. I want someone with a really good sense of smell to go on ahead, to find and mark out where the razorshells are. We can have some small mammals going behind to fish them out, and following them we can have the bigger mammals raking the sand. When you go past any rocks, we can pick off the mussels and winkles. Everyone good?"

All the kids and I nodded and, as I grabbed a bucket and paired up with Ben who held a rake, we got to work.

.

The first two hours or so went very well. The young black bear, who was called Tommy, had the job of sniffing out for the razor clams and marking them with a cross, while some small mustelids scurried around behind, fishing out the shells. The rest of us had a small patch of beach we'd rake, going back and forth across the sand, slowly making our way up to the shore. We were winning against the tide, having made it half way up the beach, although the water was never that far away. Looking across it, I could see that the boat was now floating again, the sea lifting it off the seabed. Scurrying across it I saw the figures of mammals hard at work, mainly big bears, cats and wolves, although I think I saw my Dad a few times. They'd lowered a large raft into the water and, slowly but surely, they were using the ships crane to lower one of the two diggers onto it. Compared to most mammals, the diggers we'd brought with us were large, although a bear might find the inside a bit cosy. Those on the raft seemed a bit worried at first, but soon they got it lashed on and fired up the engine, slowly making their way up the river and vanishing.

Turning my eyes away, I got back to work. Moving forward, Ben's rake dug up the sand and uncovered plenty of tasty shells which I darted to, grabbing them up and stuffing them into my bucket. As he moved on, I turned back and carried the bucket forward, though it was more like dragging it seeing as it was almost full and getting _very_ heavy. It was getting a little boring, but it was still better than school. Better than double maths with Miss Trunchbull, who hated EVERYONE. Although she hated Preds more than anyone else… I still remember when she taught us probability by asking how likely it was that a Fox like me would contribute to society, or how likely it was I'd go to jail (0 and 1, if I remember). Still though… my feet were getting really crusty and gritty, with all the sand and salt getting into my fur. My arms were aching from pulling the bucket, dragging it bit by bit across the sand, while I'd run out of things to talk to Ben about a while back.

Fortunately, it was about that time that Mum called out to everyone, telling them that they'd easily got enough food for today and tomorrow. Sighing with relief, I grabbed the bucket with Clawhauser and we walked up the beach to the shoreline. There were about sixty children here, and between us we had thirty big buckets, all brimming with enough seafood to feed us for the next few days. We were all tired from the work, so when we were told that we could go off and play for the rest of the day, we just hunched together to nap. Mum just rolled her eyes and strolled away, as I wrapped up around myself ready to sleep for a bit. I was huddled against Ben, my tail covering my face again in order to try and cover my eyes from the light. Things got even better when Honey came up and snuggled against him and me, snuggling her face into his fluffy cheek while her older sister joined her on the other side. Surrounded on three sides by fluff, almost like a cosy basket, I began to feel myself drift off into a well-earned snooze…

.

.

.

"Nick…"

.

"Slick…"

.

"Finn… go away…"

.

"Please Nick… my ears are cold."

.

Opening my eyes, I glanced up at the grey, cloudy sky. There was quite a breeze now, and while not uncomfortable it wasn't what I'd have liked. But turning to face Finnick, I realised he'd must have it far worse.

"Where are your hats?"

The Kit just stood there, his massive ears open to the elements and venting heat, and looked down in shame. His fleece was gone too, although he at least had a pair of gloves, and he was stomping his feet on the ground as he battled the cold, his arms wrapped over each other and rubbing themselves as they too tried to keep him warm. I could see him shivering all over and, as he began to speak, it was apparent that his teeth were chattering too. "Fen.. Fen… rick… and… Fat… ima… were… cold… I… I…"

I smiled slightly realising why he'd lost all his warm clothing, although I couldn't help berate him for what he'd done. "Dumb Fox."

"Ple…ase…"

I sighed and rolled my eyes, before waving him over. As he stood in front of me, I signalled for him to turn around and sit, before I worked my magic. Rubbing my Pads to make them warm, I held them up to his ears and began rubbing, the skin beneath the fur feeling oddly cold. Leaning forward, I began breathing down them too, although the shock did make Finnick eek slightly and send one of his ears twitching hard into my face.

"Sorry!" he blurted out, although I just smiled and carried on.

.

.

"Better?"

.

"No."

.

.

"Better?"

.

"No."

.

.

"Are you nearly better yet?"

"No."

.

"Are you nearly better yet?"

"No."

.

"Are you nearly…"

"Niiiick!"

I snorted slightly, before looking up at Ben to my left. "Why don't you just snuggle under his clothes?"

Finnick paused, thinking for a bit before jumping up onto the lithe cheetah's belly, standing there for a second or so unsure of what to do and looking back down at me for help.

"You want to go up him! Unless you'd rather want to go down…" I said, giggling at the end. Finnick was less impressed though, scowling before diving under Bens shirt and onto his belly, where he quickly snuggled up. The big cat's breaths became uneven for a bit, before everything went back to normal. Smiling, I snuggled back and position, closed my eyes, and drifted into a well-earned nap.

.

It was late afternoon by the time we woke up. The tide had come far in and was beginning to go out again, just as the Otter family who went out early in the morning to fish came back, their little fishing boat filled with hundreds of scallops and some big juicy fish. Curious, I skulked up close and watched as a number of mammals, my Mum included, began wandering over to pick up the shells and haul them over to a set of large oil drums they'd set out. The lids were off, they were full of water, and already piles of vegetables and shells were being prepared, ready to be poured in and turned into tonight's dinner. Lunch, however, was a different matter. Thankfully there was a pile of berries and bugs which must have been caught earlier. Helping myself to several handfuls, I carried on, just wandering around the beach before a glint of red caught my eye. Looking up, I spotted the far-off figure of Dad near the top of the cliffs on the north of the bay. While we'd been busy down here collecting food, Pap's and his friends must have been busy up there. Curious as to what they were up to, I began to make my way over.

The stroll around the bay was quiet, but with the sun coming out I began to relax. The soft lap of the waves breaking on the beach were to my left and, after giving it a brief glance, I decided to have some fun. Walking up to the top of the foam from the most recent one, I followed it down as much as I dared before digging in with my claws and racing away from the next one, kicking sand up in the air as I went. I waited for the next wave, and did it again, although this time the cold water was able to just about catch up, briefly spilling around my right hind paw. Pausing for a bit, I turned and giggled. This was fun. I didn't care that I had no TV or couldn't go to the arcades, not that there were any good arcade games that were safe for me to play, thanks to the stinking collars. Here I was, an uncollared Predator, FREE!

"Born FREE!" I screamed as I began to run and leap in the air, just enjoying being loud and crazy. Bouncing up and down, getting all excited over absolutely nothing! Back in Zootopia, I had to try and remain calm during my favourite games or when watching my favourite films, never letting myself get carried away seeing as a nasty shock would soon follow. But here and now, I could do whatever I wanted! I'd missed it. I'd missed it so much! Three years, ruined by the collars and those stupid Prey. But here, now, I could make up for all that… Just running, bouncing and screaming, caught up in my own fantasy, the fifteen-minute trek to the river was over before I knew it.

.

On the south side of the river, the barge that had brought across the digger lay half dragged onto the sand, with a rough-cut path leading into the forest. Following it, now walking on hard packed dirt rather than soft sand, I paused when I saw the clearing in front of me.

One of the digger's we'd brought was out and hard at work, moving backwards and forwards with trees cradled in its scoop. Big bulky predators moved about with chainsaws, cutting away at the trees on the edge of the clearing, or slicing those already down into logs or planks and stacking them in piles under big blue tarpaulins. There were others, moving around with strange machines that dug at the earth, mixing it all up. More went behind them, carefully picking up rocks and tossing them onto piles. It took me a while to realise that this was going to be a farm, but by then I'd walked past it and reached the river.

The river itself wasn't that wide or fast flowing, and already there was a bridge across it. It wasn't much, just pine trees from both sides which had fallen across a small rock in the middle of the stream. Tied together with rope, and with the top surface just being the shaved down trunks, I could tell straight away that it wouldn't take one of the diggers. But for a single Pred like me, it did the job just fine. I ran across the river and began following the trail up to the top of the cliff. Past the bank, the trees that had been cleared were now lying on each side of the road, no effort made to move them. The path soon began making its way up, working its way to the top of the cliffs. Passing another path which went down to the bay, where the digger on this side had landed, I put on a last burst of speed and finally got up to the top.

.

The area was flat, like the clearing below, but there was no sign of any trees being felled or land being dug up here. It was all flat grass, with big flat slabs of rock dotting around the place. Looking up to my right, most of the mountains were like that too, although there were plenty of woodland patches here and there. Looking back down at the flat area in front of me, I scanned from left to right, trying to spot Dad. But he was the one who spotted me first.

"How's it going, Nick?"

My ears twitched at the sound and I turned, my eyes resting on Dad sitting in the digger, busy clearing away some thick bushes.

"Great Pap's!" I cried back, already making my way over. It didn't take long, weaving through the remaining bushes and jumping over the two big streams that crossed the area. He got out of the digger to meet me, catching me as I leapt into him, the force knocking him back slightly. He didn't mind. I was just showing him how much I loved him.

He loved me back, holding me tight and fussing with me, even giving me a playful lick or tickle here and there. Finally, after a good dose of loving, he settled me down and knelt, holding out his hand as he waved across the area in front of us.

"See this son?" he asked, as I nodded in return. "We're going to build our new town here. The soil is thin and there's hard rock we can build the houses on. We've already found a spring up in the mountain, which we'll pipe down into a fountain or something for drinking water, while we'll put these streams in neat little channels to make them look pretty and stop them flooding us when it rains too hard. There's even a small pit near the cliff, and we'll divert them into it, making a small lake which we can use to feed a nice big generator to make electricity, although that won't be for some time. I hope to finish clearing all this scrub today, and then tomorrow I'll be using bits of wood and string to lay out where the roads and stuff will go. Pretty neat, huh?"

I smiled and nodded, before I paused, thinking of something. "What will we make the houses out of?"

Dad paused and stood up, looking at the mountain above him. "Al, the wolf who's in charge of the building and stuff was planning to use to wood we're clearing, but he says the rocks further up the mountain are great for building. Hit it with a chisel from the right direction, and it peels into thin sheets which are really easy to cut to size. We'll still use the wood, and the supplies we brought on the ship, but it will mainly be this rock and cement… anyway, enough boring stuff. Want to help me drive the digger?"

.

What kind of question was that?

.

And so, five minutes later I was sitting on Dad's lap in the digger, twiddling the controls as we tore up bramble bushes from what was going to be our new town square. A little bit of me was mad at Pap's, doing the fun stuff while I was off on the beach, but it was nothing compared to how much I loved him. Nor how much fun I was having. My old collar _really_ wouldn't be happy right now.

.

"Paps…?" I asked an hour or so later, when I realised that something wasn't right.

"Yes?"

"What about the toilets?"

"Oh, I've got a certain famous someone working on a permanent solution…" he said, with _that_ smile growing on his muzzle.

"…Who?"

"I'll give you a hint, this face may not be long for this world…"

.

.

We both burst into laughter, giggling and shaking about, as we carried on working until the sky began to turn red.

.

.

.

Night had fallen as all the Preds wandered down to the beach, where many of the women and children had been preparing food for the night. The soft sand was lit up by the glow of the fires, while many of the desert mammals like Finnick and his father (who'd been happy to not bite my Dad's face off (for tonight at least)) had huddled up close for warmth. But the best thing was the smell of the meal. Even before my little bowl was filled up, the scent of all the fish and clams and all sorts of other ingredients had made my mouth moist in anticipation. But afterwards, when my friends and I were huddled up close together all with our own bowls, it was driving me mad.

"On three," Honey called out. "One…"

"THREE!" Ben shouted, as he, Finnick and I dove into our food and took the biggest bite we could take. Almost instantly our mouths were filled with the hot liquid, bursting with the flavour of a tingling spice or two, along with the softer meatier taste of the fish (shell or otherwise). Back in Zootopia, fish was expensive and, most of the time, we just ate cheap frozen Bug-burgas. Those were always dry, flaky and bland; but tasting this stew blew them out of the water. After the first bite, all our eyes just closed up and giant grins grew on our muzzles.

"Mmmmmm", I purred out loud along with Finnick and Ben, although the Big Cheetah was soon interrupted by an angry shoulder jab from a stroppy Honey.

"Hey… Honeybun!"

"Don't you Honeybun me, Clawhauser!"

"But…"

"Don't 'But' me, Mr Three!"

As the argument began to heat up, I shuffled backwards towards the warmth of the fire and Finnick. Both of us nursing our delicious stews, we watch the fun play out until finally, just as we were ready to get up for seconds, Ben offered up a peace deal.

"Honeybun… stop it. I'll dance with you when they start the music!"

In an instant, the Honey badger's mood flipped and she leapt forward, hugging the cheetah as tight as he could. Of course, this meant Finnick and I had only one way to respond.

"HONEY AND BEN, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"

The two mammals turned to face us, but instead of looking angry they had a wicked look on their faces. Finnick and I could only take a few steps back before they charged at us. We bolted away, splitting up and hoping that Clawhauser would be going after the other. Finnick was lucky.

One moment I was racing along the beach, my arms and legs pumping as fast as they could. The next, I felt a massive force hit me and send me tumbling. Clawhauser and I rolled along the ground, sand flying up into the air and burrowing deep into our fur. I should have known what was coming, but the feeling of his giant paws starting their merciless tickling still came as a shock. This was payback for yesterday and, as I squirmed, kicked and giggled on the floor, I knew that there was nothing I could do about it.

.

The tickling session didn't last long and soon Ben was helping me up. Giving him a playful fist bump, I smiled as I looked back at the glowing fires and the figures of the other Preds. Someone had put some music on loud, and they were beginning to dance.

"Don't want to keep your girl waiting," I teased, before immediately receiving a wet finger deep in my ear as payback. Despite being super gross, It didn't really matter. This day had been great. Rough and hard, yes, but I realised that was part of why it had been so great.

Ben and I wandered back to the fires and began dancing to the music. We danced, on and on for the rest night, all of us grinning and shouting and laughing and having the time of our lives until we couldn't stay up anymore. Too tired to make our way back to the boat, we settled under the trees and closed our eyes, ready for sleep.

Ready for the next day.

Another day of being free.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

.

It was early evening, a warm sea breeze coming in as the sun began to set. All across the city, mammals were leaving their workplaces and heading home, while the nightlife began to gear up for another action-packed evening or hustle and bustle. Even though he was over on the other side of the bay, across from the grand city itself, Nick could still see and hear the vast clubs and casinos of Sahara square off in the distance. Great spotlights crisscrossed the sky while the Palm hotel was brightly illuminated. In a few hours, the screams and calls of mammals would be heard as well.

With sensitive eyes, and ears that still weren't fully reacclimatised to the noise and light of the great city, the Fox had no interest in such matters. The fact that Preds would be out of place in anything more exciting than a bumper car was also an issue. Sure, he'd be fine in such a situation, but the lack of an orange light would likely draw some attention.

Attention he didn't want.

Attention he didn't need.

.

Instead, Nick had other interests. Another old Ally who'd stayed in Zootopia, and who he'd only met a few times before. The Pred in question was a recluse, living by himself in the old railyards near the docks, revelling in the peace and quiet they provided. It wasn't that far from where Nick had spent his first eight years on this earth, and while the path there didn't take Nick through the now decrepit wasteland of his old neighbourhood, it took him nearby.

The Jaguar Limo driver had been dismissed for the time being, Nick instead preferring to gently walk to his location. The air and exercise would do him good, stretching his muscles while he got a good look at the surroundings. The Population here was mainly Preds, but Prey had been moving in too. As long as they were near the old bay bridge, and only a short hop from downtown, it was cheap rent for anyone who wasn't a Pred hater.

"Sir…"

Nick paused and turned to face the noise, setting his eyes on the large Goat jogging towards him. The Fox smiled at first, wondering whether this was the infamous Blueberry pie man that he'd been told about so many times before. However, as he got closer, the tell-tale signs of this mammal's disposition became evident.

Overly expensive suit and tie.

Gaudy golden watches.

A giant grin already on his face, and greedy, greedy eyes.

The bundle of leaflets pinned under his elbow.

Nick turned away and carried on, not wanting to waste his time on what was obviously a professional liar.

"Hello, fine Gentlemammal" he said again, in an overbearingly positive voice that made Nick roll his eyes in disdain.

'Overly optimistic,' Nick thought, as he listened in and critiqued the performance. 'Confidence may be intoxicating, but this is overkill. Never the less, he's got off to the right start. Complimenting a mammal that shouldn't be used to compliments… let's see what else he's got'.

"You are indeed a fine specimen. Tall, well kept and kempt, your reflexes agile and strong."

'More compliments'.

"It's so great to see a Predator in peak condition…"

'I could hear the lie in that. You're not Pro-pred, so what's your game.'

"It's such a tragedy to see what the Government and Big business is trying to do, rid the world of this excellence."

'Anti-establishment views, or rather pandering. But still, you want something from this. What is it?'

"They despise Predatory features like yours, and are doing their best to wipe them out. Now, I'm willing to help you get through with this. Help you protect your health and heritage, and those of your loved ones too."

'Well, no one can argue with point one. I suppose that, given the right state of mind, he'd be able to swindle a fair few bitter Preds with whatever he's doing.'

"For a start, claws across the city are getting weaker and duller, thanks in no part due to the chemicals they put in the water."

'…Ah lovely…

...It's one of those guys…'

"But for a reasonable price, I'd be able to supply you with a highly effective water distilling device. Providing pure, untainted water."

'And there it is, the nub of the Hustle.'

Finally having enough of the badgering, Nick stopped and stood tall, turning on the spot to face the goat. A wide courteous smile on his muzzle, the Fox held his paw up to stop the unscrupulous ungulate, before speaking out. "I'm not going to lie old chap, nice hustle. Well done. Six out of ten. Levering off Predators usual disdain for the state and authority, a nice dose of 'think of the children' with a nefarious conspiracy with an easy, and profitable, solution for those aware. Keep up the practice mate, although just remember that you'll never be able to fool a Fox… Just a shame eight out of ten mammals consider being born into the Vulpes genus as a bigger sign of being a swindler than all the tell-tale ones you exude. Now, I've got an old friend to meet tonight, and some important Avarian dignitaries to meet over the next few days. In short, I'm a busy Fox so, without much ado, goodbye!"

For his part, the peddler was taken aback by Nick's seemingly courteous, albeit gleefully sarcastic, rebuttal and just stood there, mouth agape, as his potential customer began strolling along the pavement. However, he wasn't one for giving up and, shaking his head and stepping forward, he prepared his follow up pitch. "Mr Fox, it's not just the water supply that is contaminated, lest we forget that they inject us with all sorts of chemicals from the day we're born! Under the guise that it's to keep us healthy, no less!"

Almost immediately a scowl appeared on Nick's face and he upped his pace, now almost jogging as he tried to put some distance between him and the sales mammal before he was tempted to do something stupid.

"I mean, it's obvious! What better way to control the city's Preds via the vaccinations!"

Up ahead Nick stopped and glared back at the peddler, his face scowled up and disgusted. "I was willing to put up with your earlier stuff, but that was harmless. I advise you turn around and leave me alone." He said, his voice bitter and angry as he turned to continue on forwards. The Goat, however, was unfazed.

"Listen, you're a wise Pred. You know how the cards are stacked up against you! I mean, is it really worth it? Risking a direct contamination of your precious bodily fluids, to stave off a few perfectly harmless diseases here and there?"

The guttural growl should have told the Goat that carrying on wasn't a wise move. The raised fur and arrow straight bristling tail should have told him that he was pressing all the wrong buttons. But he was too far into his con, in his mind too close to the potential sale of his patented 'miracle pills', and besides, he saw no orange collar, so he carried on.

"I mean, if you had children, if you loved them, you'd do anything to keep them safe and pure, wouldn't you?"

Two red feet planted themselves hard on the floor before turning around, while a paw dived into a pocket to retrieve the can of pepper spray waiting there. Before he had any time to think, the Goat was on the ground and clutching his eyes, screaming in pain as a constant stream of the burning fluid kept on pouring and pouring onto his face. Nick, meanwhile, just stood above him, gaining a dark primal satisfaction from his actions. He kept his finger pressed down tight onto the spray button, smiling cathartically as he watched his victim writhe on the floor, before he finally stopped. Putting the can away, he grabbed one of the ungulates ears and held it tight, stopping him from squirming as he slowly lowered his muzzle. Fighting through the pain, the Goat was able to hold still and squint out, looking on as the Fox's mouth lined up with his ear. "Just so you know… If I ever hear you spouting such bullshit again, I'll make sure that this feels like a mercy you bastard."

The Goat, detecting the underlying menace in the Fox's seemingly cordial voice, just nodded as rapidly as he could as Nick stood up and let him go. This time, he was going the opposite way to the Fox, and as fast as his legs could carry him.

.

.

.

Night had fallen by the time Nick reached the old railyard. Rough concrete spread out in all directions, with only the occasional rusting rail still present. Instead of wagons and engines, the area was covered in thick bushes and gorse which hummed with the sounds of buzzing insects. Picking through the litter and the piles of debris, the Fox made his way towards the one definitive sign that this place had once been part of the Zootopian rail network, the aging signal box that stood sentinel over the desolate plain. Despite its age, it was in surprisingly good condition. The roof had been repaired recently, the paint on the timbers seemed brand new and even the glass on the top floor was relatively clean. Someone took good care of this place, though of course you would if this was your home. Making his way around, Nick found the door to the ground floor and knocked it hard.

A few seconds' past.

He knocked again.

A few more seconds.

This time Nick hammered with all his might, his curled up fist rattling the door so hard that its hinges were almost made loose.

.

"Uhhhhhh…" came the tired, aged voice from inside, groaning out like a teenager fighting to stay in bed. The sharp creaking of metal bed springs only made the comparison more apt.

"Nice to see your still alive in there, pal!"

"…Nick?"

"You know it, you love it."

There was silence from the other end for several seconds, before the mammal inside moaned wearily. "Go Away…"

The Fox outside grunted, more annoyed than anything. "Come on Smokey, it's your old pal wanting a chat."

"But it's soooo early!"

Nick's eyes widened at the surprising statement and he turned around, playfully walking around the grounds and gesturing up to the star filled sky around him. "Dude, it's NIGHT!"

"Not that kind of early…"

Nick stopped dead in his tracks, before racing back to the signal box with a wicked grin on his muzzle. "Don't tell me you're still not out of hibernation?!"

"What kind of cruel mammal are you… waking me up in February!"

Nick paused for a second, several large blinks crossing his face as he registered what had just been said, before he turned back to the door and shouted. "IT'S MARCH! We're almost halfway through the Month!"

"… Who gives a damn…"

"I do! I don't need you right now but the others have important things to discuss. Besides… we have that thing we talked about last autumn."

"Can it wait?"

"NO!"

"Just five more days…."

"NO!"

"… fine…"

There was a massive groan from inside, as the metal springs of the mammal's bed practically squealed as the load they'd carried all winter finally arose like Lazarus from his deathbed. Nick just waited patiently, tapping his foot as bangs and stomps came from inside, the whole wooden box shaking on occasions, before there was the sound of a heavy deadbolt unlocking. With a mighty groan, the door opened and the head of a grizzled old Brown Bear, half if the fur on his face gone grey with age, stuck out. He glanced around a bit, before setting his eyes on Nick and scowling.

"It's night…"

"I did say that at the beginning, didn't I Smokey?" came the playful response as the bear made his way out of his home.

"I'm still mad. I'll have Hibernation lag for the next few days thanks to you!"

Nick paused, the grin on his face rapidly morphing into the smuggest smile imaginable, before he gave a characteristic reply to round the conversation off. "You know you love me!"

Smokey chuckled slightly, a playful grin on his muzzle. "Do I?" he asked, before giving Nick a mighty pat on the back. Of course, seeing as this was a Bear pat, Nick was sent flying into the shrubs, clattering and tumbling as he was carried on forwards before hitting one of the few remaining wagons, stopping with an almighty thud. "Yes, yes I do."

.

.

Over the next few hours, the duo of Predators slowly got to work. Smokey, for his part, retrieved a rusty scythe and made quick work of clearing some of the scrub and detritus that had sprouted up over the winter months. It was a small fraction of the small fraction that he kept clear, but it was enough for tonight. Nick, meanwhile, made his way over to one of several mounds that had been covered with a tarpaulin. Pulling the blue waterproof coating off, he exposed the pile of dry waste wood and organic material beneath, before digging in to expose the driest of the dry. With a nod from Smokey, the Fox then made his way to the Bears home. By the time he'd retrieved the two deck chairs, the fold up table and an untapped keg of Beer, the geriatric ursine had already started a small but glowing fire on his pile. No one would get a name like Smokey without being into fire, and that Bear just happened to be Zootopia's friendliest pyromaniac. He also brewed his own beer, a rather nice IPA that matured while he was hibernating. Talk about friends with benefits. And so, as a fickle blaze started, the two settled back to savour the first pints of the season. Nick took his glass and took a nice large mouthful, savouring the taste and nodding in appreciation, before swallowing. He had to admit, this Bear had skill. As a silent minute passed, he finished the rest of his glass and went back for more, only to be interrupted by Smokey before it reached his lips.

"You don't tend to drink that much Nick, something got your goat."

The Fox paused, before placing his drink on the table and turning away, sighing. "You could say that." There was then a soft chuckle, and a quick addendum. "Quite literally."

"Tell me more…" Smokey murmured, peering over as he looked on, newly interested in his friends affairs.

"I'd rather not, it's personal…"

"Is this about…" the Bear began to ask, before he paused as he saw the flickering of Nick's ears and the twitching of his nose. The Fox knew what was about to be asked, and Smokey knew what the answer was going to be. There was silence as Nick turned to look at his friend with a solemn look on his face. Smokey, seemingly wanting to say something opened his mouth to speak but his voice hitched, unsure of what words of comfort or advice were appropriate. Shrugging, he settled down into his chair and looked back towards the flickering and glowing limbs of flame in front of him. Briefly, they were the only sounds that filled the air, until Smokey's ears pricked at the sound of Nick taking a deep breath in.

"Yup…" was all the Fox managed, his voice barely even a whisper.

"Enough said, Slick," the Bear solemnly replied, "Carry on."

Rather than continue his drinking, Nick relaxed back into his chair and rested his arms behind his head. His gaze settled on the warm orange glow of the fire, the individual flames writhing and fluttering in the wind as they made their way skywards. Looking closely, he could even spot the various hues and colours on the edges of the flames, looking almost like highlights on fur. Far enough away from the loud sounds of the city centre, the crackling and roaring of the small blaze took over. He could certainly see why Smokey enjoyed this.

.

.

"Hey Slick…"

"What?"

"Do you blame the city?"

"What, Zootopia?"

"Bingo."

Nick shrugged, before turning his gaze so he faced the glowing silhouette of the city in the distance. "I suppose I do. Indirectly."

"I mean, we've all hated it at some point or another."

"That we do, old man, that we do."

"Imagine, imagine if we could fix it? Or control it?"

The Fox just chuckled slightly, before taking another swig of his drink and turning back to Smokey. "I'd say we didn't have a rat's arse of a chance, but that's insulting to the rats… Back when I was a little Kit, I dreamed about tearing this place down. I'm now just inclined to doing non-consensual one sided trade."

The scene chilled down into a cool silence, lingering on for several minutes. The fire crackled and flickered, sending embers and dark smoke up skyward. The two mammals just drank, before the larger one pulled in a deep breath and spoke.

"I dreamed about tearing this nasty little city down too, Slick."

"Hasn't every Pred?"

"Each and every one. I still do, on occasions."

"Me too… me too."

There was a soft pause, before Smokey gave a soft chuckle, which quickly caught something in his throat, bringing him down into a bitter cough.

"You alright there?" Nick asked, as the old Bear hacked the last few bits of gunk from his throat.

"Fine… Fine, I was just thinking…"

"Dangerous thing that…" Nick interjected, gaining a brief chuckle from Smokey before he carried on and explained himself.

"I was thinking that if each and every Pred wants to tear this city down, maybe the Prey have some justification for the collars."

The air fell silent for a moment, as Nick dipped his head down and gently felt his collar with his paws. Shifting the tough plastic strap between his fingers, feeling the odd cut or bump with his pads, the fox sighed as he dropped it down. "We feel that way because we've been forced into a corner. Forced into it and kept in it for our entire lives. It's the deepest, nastiest, pokiest corner you could force us into and, when push comes to shove, we've got nothing to lose. Heck, we've got LESS than nothing in most cases."

"The point being?" Smokey asked, his ears rising up along with his curiosity.

"The most dangerous animal, period, isn't a Pred or Prey. It's a cornered mammal with nothing to lose."

"You don't have nothing to lose," the Bear commented, before his eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you?"

"No," the Fox immediately repeated back, before adding a fainter addendum. "I have quite a lot to lose."

"How is the family, by the way?"

"Oh… Great!" Nick replied with a happy smile, "Dad asked me to make sure you were still good, too."

"Well," came the warm reply, "I think he'll be getting a happy answer."

Smiling, Nick snuggled back down into his chair as Smokey continued on.

"Thanks to Honest John, Preds have something now. Before him, we had nothing to lose. After him, everything. Does it seem any different?"

"I don't know" Nick shrugged, before sporting a sly grin. Holding up a paw, he pushed out his claws and lazily swiped them, a playful growl coming from his muzzle as he did so. "All I know is that I'm a Fox, and I'm DANGEROUS!"

Smokey just chuckled lightly, settling back into his chair to snooze. His nap was interrupted, however, by Nick's ever growing laugh. Opening an eye, he squinted at the Fox before turning to face him.

"What gives?"

Nick just looked back with his biggest grin as he gave his answer. "All this time we've been discussing philosophy, your fire's gone out."

Smokey turned to face the bonfire heap, which no longer burned by instead just smoked, the only light coming from some glowing embers in the pile. Had the Bear not received the same collar modifications as Nick, he'd have likely received a tiny Zap from his frustration. Instead, he was freely able to scowl and curse under his breath to his heart's content.

"Bugger!" he muttered as he stood up, grabbed a long pole he used for stoking and stomped over to his fire, ready to prod it back to life, all while an increasingly merry Fox looked on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

.

_Judy's ~~DIARY~~_ JOURNAL _. 15.03.16._

Opening case notes:

.

So, it turned out that I'm getting the 'knights of the muzzle' case with Detective Oates.

Now, seeing as I'm a good citizen who wants to make the world a better place, I'm excited! I get to fight back against those Pred hating scum. Now, the general overview of the case is general public knowledge, but Oates informed me about some of the more intimate parts. I'll pop them down here for future reference.

.

The Knights of the muzzle: An anti-Pred hate group notorious for the abductions and disappearances of countless Predators over the years.

\- Leader: Unknown.

\- Agents captured: None.

\- Ulterior motive: Speculated speciesism, given the one unifying link between their victims, but any other motives are unknown.

\- Financiers: None known or ever discovered.

\- Fate of prisoners: Unknown, no bodies or survivors have ever been discovered.

.

I have to admit, this was NOT what I was expecting. I thought the police were supposed to know MORE than the general public, but it seems we've got nothing. I talked with Oates about this, and he agreed with my sentiment that this is the smallest casefile I've ever seen.

Well, I like trying… So, I'm going to have to try and make a difference. And boy, does a difference need to be made.

The fact remains that Predators are still vanishing at a scary rate, about 100 every month. That's over 1,000 a Year! And what's most terrifying is that it's entire families that go. Parents, children, aunts, uncles etc… They're at their jobs and workplaces one day, and the next they're gone! Completely! Not a trace left! But the worst crimes, the most vile dreadful crimes that these despicable excuses for mammals commit, is the vanishings from Orphanages. HALF the Pred orphans in this city have vanished over the last 10 years. It's vile and disgusting that so many backward people exist, who are willing to take their evil out on poor, defenceless kids.

I mean, what's the logic? These children haven't done anything… yet. OK, I'll admit that Pred care leavers are the most likely group to be incarcerated in the entire city, but that's no excuse for murder!

All I know is that these SCUM have blood on their hands, and that I'll chase them down to the furthest, most dangerous corners of the world to find the truth.

.

So, what do we know? The few tit-bits I've got are written out as follows:

\- The first 'potential vanishings' took place in March 1993, 23 years ago. 150 or so Preds, many of them shop owners or tradesmen (and relatively well off), went missing from their homes in Happytown. Some have classed this as a 'doomsday cult' event or something, rather than a knights of the muzzle case, due to the fact that they 'withdrew' themselves from life and liquidated most of their assets a week or so before going missing. Regardless, we don't know whether this was an initial attack or a case of a load of Preds going out and drinking some industrial strength Kool-Aid.

\- Many vanishings occurred over the next 6 years or so, with alarms starting to be raised, but little action forthcoming until Gazelle began to get involved.

\- The first mention of the organisations name occurred in 2003, shortly after the first big campaigns and pushes to find a solution by none other than the angel with horns.

\- Most families still seem to liquidate many of their assets before their vanishing, with further items taken with them as they vanish. Oates primarily speculates that this is due to blackmail, and many campaigns and hotlines have been used to try and give a way out. While we get a few calls, NOT ONE Pred has been saved by them. Not one…

\- Public pressure to solve the crisis seems surprisingly low, with only about 55% agreeing that a massive increase in policing presence, internet monitoring, email reading, phone bugging and security cam cover is needed to solve this. This isn't the Zootopia I know. The polls MUST be wrong. They have to be wrong. It should be 99%, with that 1% being the criminal scum at the heart of the conspiracy. We need a massive increase in police presence to protect our preds, with increased surveillance and more patrols. Anyone who disagrees is Pred hating scum!

\- Of course, I know the above is wrong because, among Predators, the rate is LOWER than the Zootopian average. The Preds know that the police are their friends, they know just how much could be taken away from them and how much they could lose for the crime of being a Pred in Zootopia. Yet for some bizarre reason, they seem to be so distrustful of the police that they're willing to take their chances with the knights! I mean, what have we done to them to make them hate us?

.

So, that's all the stuff about the case. Now for some me time, because GAWD I need to vent.

Knowing that this was a giant case that would take up my time, I chose to finally move out of my room in our Burrow and set up shop in the city centre. Cuts down on commuting time, I'm just five minutes away from the central precinct. More time both for the case and for well-earned me-time.

So, I found a nice studio apartment in the Grand Pangolin Arms which could be customised for mammal sizes between class 6 and class 9. Being slap-dash in the middle of 7, that was perfect for me. Sadly, size class 9 is good enough for mammals like Oryx's and Kudu's…

I thought that our Burrow was loud.

I thought that here would be a nice quiet place to rest and get my work done.

Sweet cheese and crackers I was wrong.

I MEAN SERIOUSLY! DO MY NEIGHBOURS SPEAK THROUGH LOUDSPEEKERS OR WHAT!

.

.

OH FOR GODS SAKE, THEY HAVE THE CHEEK TO SAY I'M 'SCRIBBLING TOO LOUD'. YES, THANKS FOR THAT INSIGHT BUCKY! I'M SCRIBBLING IN MY DI… hang on… _(addendum: why am I even writing my such thoughts down… ugh… maybe its so the psychiatrist in the insane asylum can piece together how my mind fell apart.)_

.

I'M SCRIBBLING IN MY **JOURNAL** (I've just corrected them on that) BECAUSE I'M PISSED OFF…. YES THEY SAID THEY'RE LOUD, BUT I'M GOING TO MAKE SURE THEY KNOW **WHY** I'M ANGRY!

.

Oh Great, I think the whole floor just heard me shout 'It's not because I'm in heat you dingus!" And they call us Rabbits Sex Mad! He's the one who brought it up!

.

.

But all this. All this pain and annoyance, it JUST had to have a nice bit of salt in the wound, didn't it? Because, after clawing my way up and up, proving myself to that Buffalo Butt of a police chief over and over again, and finally getting a place on the most important case on the city!

What does he do?

I'll tell you what he does!

He decides to make me, a full blown Junior detective, help this angry Goat find and charge a Fox that sprayed him with pepper spray in the street. Now, I don't know what a Fox was doing spraying anyone with pepper spray, especially a meek prey mammal like a goat. Maybe I'll be find out when I take him in. Must be a fairly cruel and vicious specimen to attack a 'peaceful salesman' like that. I mean, my good ol' Fox Rep is only for these Savage Preds that de-evolve here and there. I'll keep it on me when taking our old Reynard in for sure, for all I know his Collar could be bust!

And unlike those other officers who talk the talk, I KNOW what both an uncollared, and a savage Pred can do.

.

Well, no use complaining any more. At least this guy seems to know where his Fox will be, although given his talk about 'foreign cannibal bastards behind the whole conspiracy', I'm not making any bets yet. Well, duty calls… And I'd like at least 1 hour of sleep today.

.

Junior Detective Judy Hopps, signing off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

.

**_Spring 1993_ **

.

It was almost two weeks since we'd arrived on the island.

Every day, we'd work our pads to the bone getting everything set up. The older and larger Preds worked on preparing the town and clearing the farmland while the smaller Preds fished or cooked. The children like me would collect shells or fish from the beach and then gut and clean them. We'd collect berries and roots to add to the food pile too, though every day we had to go further and further out to find some. When needed, we'd even run backwards and forwards, carrying messages or collecting tools for the bigger workers. Other times, we'd be helping to pack and store the food we'd collected in bottles or barrels, all preparing up for winter.

Some of the work was fun, especially the few times that I got to ride with Dad in the digger. Other work was less fun, however. Tearing the remaining soil and roots from the places where we'd build our town or the fields had left me worn out, with paws all cut up from the brambles. But all through it, even though we had no TV or radio's, it was far better than the life we'd be having back in Zootopia, even before we played and danced hard at night. Instead of being stuck in boring lessons by teachers who didn't care about us and surrounded by bullies who hated us, everyone was friendly. At the end of the day, instead of a book full of stupid notes and scribbles, we'd have finished something big like a bridge or a road. Instead of having to be quiet all day, we could shout and joke and laugh. We'd even chase each other or play between our jobs, and it wasn't that boring with Dad's music playing out loud….

.

Wasn't that boring…

.

Dad's music…

.

Oh, sweet cheese and crackers…

.

A sudden, horrific realisation came over me. It fought with every iota of who I thought I was. It threatened to rip my identity apart. Words couldn't fathom to terror I felt at that one moment. "MUM!" I screamed out, pricking her ears. Shifting on her knees, she got up from her own work nearby and turned to face me.

"What?" she quietly asked, her head cocking sharply as she said it.

I gulped, and said out loud the dreaded confession. "I think I like Dad's music".

If anything, her head cocked even further. "Don't you think you're mixing it up with my music? You've always liked my music. Fleetwood Yak, David Joey, Kirsty Macgull…"

"No…" I replied, "It is Dad's stuff. And the boring stuff too!"

"What?" she innocently asked, shrugging as she turned back to her work. "Nothing wrong with Jerry Vole…"

"There is, it's BORING!"

"But not anymore I presume?" she asked back, making me mumble and growl in response.

"I know… That's the problem…"

"Doesn't seem like a problem to me?" she said back shrugging once more, before turning back to face the ground and the wall she was building.

"It is a problem, and it gets worse! Go boringer…"

"Don't lie," she mumbled, "you've always liked some of Simba and Garfunkle…"

"But I like even more of it now!"

"Even the rock song?"

I paused, blinking for a few seconds as the sound of Dad's favourite song fast-forwarded through my mind. "NO! I'll never like that dumb song about being a rock! Who wants to be a rock?"

"I'll have you know, a lot of musicians wanted to be stoned, which is sorta close," she half said half giggled back, evidently making an unfunny joke. "That's close enough, isn't it?"

"Still stupid though…"

"Any other cases of musical maturity?" Mum asked quietly. "What about Gullbert and…"

"They the Avarians who did the dumb pirate song?"

"That and many others," she replied.

"Then NO!" I shouted back, angry that she could even consider such a thing. "Yes, 'it's a wonderful thing to be a pirate king'. But they only had to say that once! Not the bazillion gajillion times they sung it!"

"Well, if some Simba and Garfunkle is the worst that you're enjoying, that isn't a bad thing…"

"No, it isn't…" I mumbled under my breath. "Go boringer… As boringer as is mammalianly possible…"

She seemed to get it this time, but chuckled rather than acting with the urgency it so desperately required. Standing up tall, I started walking over, more annoyed than anything else at her blatant disregard for my sudden identity crises.

"Just because there's that one song about you…"

"It isn't about me," she said back, struggling not to laugh. "It's about a Marianne, not a Marie-Anne."

"Close enough!"

"It was for your father," she replied back, suddenly very cheeky. "He played it to me when he proposed. It's always been my song… Now, get back to work you cultured little munchkin!"

I scowled at her apathy at my issues, something I soon regretted as she pinched my cheek and fussed about with it. I felt a growl coming, after all this there was no way I'd be getting back to work, but the quick mention that she wouldn't tell Pap's (so as, to quote her, 'not inflate his ego') was enough to reassure me and get me back down onto my hands and knees. The work to clear the fields had been finished a week ago and, after a day spent hammering wooden piles into the beach (Mum said it would mean more mussels and winkles, while also letting us know which areas of the beach to comb for cockles and which to leave alone), the stronger mammals left to go up the mountain. The big wolf Dad had put in charge of building, who everyone called Al, had cut a path up to a rockface where we'd get most of the building stone we'd need for the town and now most of the big workers were up there.

Turning to look up, I could just about see them working away, chiselling and cutting the rock with big picks and hammers. It must have been a special kind of rock up there, because down here I was stuck working with lots of normal looking pebbles that had been dug up when preparing the soil for crops.

When the big Preds had moved off the fields, the smaller ones and children had moved in. Al had spent a day down here with some measuring equipment. He didn't seem that good with it, but with the help of us Kids we got the whole area marked out with strings and pegs.

Now it was time to mark out our own farming areas in stone and so, throughout the morning, we'd been building up little walls to mark out our plots. Being a family of three Foxes, we'd got a middle sized one, a square with sides about thirty metres long (according to Mum). One of the Wolf families, which had five members, had got a plot with sides twice as long as that, so their plot was four times the size of our one. One of the Bears meanwhile had one twice the size of ours but half that of the wolves.

I'd asked Mum about it, and she said that the larger the mammal the more food they needed. When I asked about the Preds who didn't like many vegetables, she said that they would get a plot anyway. That way, they could grow and trade fruit and vegetables, sell their plot to someone who wanted it or use it to farm bugs instead. I then asked about selling our plot, and she said that I wasn't getting out of eating my vegetables that easily.

_'Drat…'_

I thought that that had been a great plan.

While I'd marked out the outside of our plot with a high wall, Mum had been busy splitting the inside into lots of smaller plot for all sorts of different vegetables. Half of the area was split into five big rows, with the rest split into a set of smaller squares. As I finally finished working on my wall, I walked over to her and asked her about what we were going to plant. Again...

"Well," she began proudly, as she stood up to look over her future garden. "We're going to have a big plot for onions, a big plot for potatoes, a big one for wheat, a big one for corn and a big one for rapeseed, which we can make vegetable oil and margarine from."

_'That's OK…'_

"And smaller fields for carrots…"

_'Yuck!'_

"Parnsips…"

_'Not too bad…'_

"Leeks…"

_'What's a Leek? Or does she mean we'll use it as a toilet?'_

"Broccoli…"

_'YUCK!'_

"Sprouts…"

_'DOUBLE YUCK!'_

"I see you don't like that, do you?"

_'What kind of vege…. Oh wait. Act casual!'_

"We'll also have Tomatoes…"

_'If you're making Ketchup, I'm cool…'_

"Chickpeas, for egg substitute…"

_'Wait? A plant that taste likes eggs?!'_

"Aubergines…"

_'Aren't those the same things as Egg-plant? Better name than eggplant. Eggplant doesn't look OR taste like egg.'_

"Peppers…"

_'Yummy!'_

"Rhubarb…"

_'Wasn't that a cartoon dog?'_

"Celery, lettuce, cabbage…"

_'No-one except dumb bunnies likes that stuff! Stop being mean!'_

"Runner beans, peas, squash, pumpkins and courgettes or marrows..."

_'I HATE marrow. I thought Dad not getting his cheese sauce meant he'd quit that stuff too!'_

'"We also get a plot in the orchards, where we'll have all sorts of fruit trees and berry bushes."

_That's more like it!'_

"And a bay in the greenhouses, where we can start growing our seeds nice and early."

"This is SOOO COOOl Mum!" I finally shouted back, happy to know just what we were growing, and knowing that at least some of it was edible. This stuff was interesting! Why didn't they teach this in school? It seemed far more useful than the history lessons where we kept on learning about how 'evil' us Preds were back in the savage ages.

"Glad to hear it," she said smiling back, before that smile turned into _that smile…_ "You do realise that the stuff we put in the pots in the greenhouse will be the stuff we take out of the toilets."

I stepped back a bit in shock. ' _No… she has to be joking. We can't be growing our food in…'_

"They're called composting toilets for a reason…"

My eyes opened wide, and my body rooted itself to the ground in horror as Mum bursted into a fit of giggles. It didn't seem like a laughing matter to me, but my concerns were finally calmed down as she leant forward to rest her paw on my shoulder.

"Don't worry… I know what I'm doing," she said, smiling and winking as she did so. "Have the rest of the day off. Go and see what Finnick and his family are up to by the bug farm."

.

Brushing myself down to clean off the dirt, I turned and ran off. Jumping onto the paths out of the allotments, which had been paved in soft sand from the beach to stop them getting muddy, I almost went down to all fours as I made my way north as fast as possible. Towards the mountains. Towards the greenhouses and the bug farms. Towards the Ibn-Zerdain's and my BFF Finnick.

The bug farms were made of long lines of wood sheds, which were slowly being surrounded by brick walls. Finnick had been helping to build them the last time I saw him and had said that they were going to fill the gaps between the brick walls and sheds with straw and hay before winter. He said that it was to keep the bugs warm. Later on, Fenrick had said that this was because bugs couldn't keep their body warm, so they needed to be kept at a nice cosy temperature. He said that one of the other smaller adults was working with his father on a heating system to keep them warm and, following the pipes that crossed the ground, I quickly found them.

Between the bug farms and the greenhouses, a tall brick chimney had been built with a small covered shed at its base. Reaching it, I spotted Khalid and a pine martin working on a big metal boiler, pipes coming out of it like leg from a spider. The Fennec spotted me first and stood up, smiling and waving at me to come over.

"Nicholas, what are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Finnick."

Khalid's smile went down somewhat, and then he shrugged. "He's back on the boat, looking after the livestock. He'll be there all day…. Do you want a tour of the heating system? It's very clever, and it'll keep my bugs and everyone's plants nice and warm even in winter!"

"No thanks!" I shouted back before running past them. A bunch of pipes couldn't be clever… or interesting. I'd much rather see what Dad was up to. I quickly left the fields behind, running across the brand-new wooden bridge which crossed the river and then up the stone path that had been made up to the town.

.

Al, the Big Wolf Dad had in charge of building everything, had been doing a lot of work in planning the town, but most of the effort so far had been used to build the town hall. He'd put all of his care and attention into it, and I'd often seen him just pacing around with his drawings looking really stressed out, but he'd made something crazy and awesome and he seemed really proud of it. He said it was his 'Magnum Opus', which he then said was his 'greatest creation'. I'd then said that, in the future, he could make something even greater. He'd just shrugged, saying that he had a feeling that this was as good as it would get before saying that, given the right conditions, he felt that I could make something even greater.

What that would be could wait for a while and instead I just settled down on the big flat semi-circle of mud in front of the hall (which Al said would become a park if he ever got some grass seeds) and looked at it. It was in line with the cliffs behind it, and was wide but low. Most of it was just two big timber barns, painted red and with black stone roofs, stretching out to the left and right. Inside, each barn had a stone floor on the ground level and a wooden first floor, which were being used for storage. They also had three big fire pits each, all under a big stone chimney to keep the hot smoke away from anything that would burn. We'd already started hanging out in one of the two barns in the evenings, eating our food and dancing in there. We took up less than half the space of one barn, so many people were now sleeping on the second floor of the other one, which was much easier than going back out to the boat every night.

As for the bit in the middle, it was a big stone building made of the stuff from the mountain. The walls looked weird at first, seeing as the grey/black rock was as long as three of four bricks but only as tall as one, but once I'd got used to how it looked I quite liked it. The ground floor had a big arched door, with two arched windows on either side of it. The three floors above that each had five windows, before the whole thing was topped with a triangular roof, the flat surface facing me the future home for a clock, if we ever got one. There was even a joke flagpole attached to it. Maybe I could design a flag for our new country?

Thinking about it, we didn't have a name for our new country…

We didn't have a name for our new town, either…

Shaking my head, and deciding to ask about the important questions of life at a later date, I looked back at the town hall and continued my previous train of thought. Finnick's mum Cherifa, and many of the other cooks would be on the ground floor, working on the electric stoves at the back to prepare dinner. The first floor had become the library, with all the books moved into it from boat. The second was split between a makeshift clinic, run by Honey's mum Chloe badger, and a filing area for notes and stuff. The third floor, and the forth up in the attic, didn't have a use yet but Dad said that when the town got busier they'd need room for offices and stuff.

Maybe that's what Al meant about me being able to make greater things. Maybe I'd be a mayor…! I scowled and shook my head at that silly thought. A Fox Mayor? Who would vote for a Fox mayor? Everyone would think we're up to something evil or something…

But as I walked away, I remembered just where we were! We weren't in Zootopia! We weren't surrounded by nasty Prey mammals who hated us. We were starting anew! Whatever story that said Foxes were sneaky and untrustworthy wouldn't come up again, and it wouldn't be passed down from parents to children. People wouldn't look at my red fur and think that I'm up to something. They'd trust me like they'd trust anyone else. Maybe I could be Mayor?

Thinking about it, Dad was the closest thing we had to a mayor.

I smiled as I jogged on towards the edge of the park. Here, as the mud curved around, a future road followed it. On its outer side, Al had planned to build all the shops and things that we would need. After finishing those, he and the builders would move on backwards, up towards the mountain. The Wolf had already marked out three roads, one on the inner banks of the two streams and one up the centre of the town, right in front of the town hall's tower. Going back, he'd then build roads between them, which would have the rest of the houses attached to them.

He seemed to be a very clever wolf, and not a numb-nut at all. However, as I paused and looked on at the argument he was having with my Dad, it seemed like I might have to reconsider that.

.

"I don't see why I can't have one Al!"

"Listen John, it's hard work! And if you have one, EVERYONE will want one!"

"Oh come on, what's hard about a roof light!"

"I'll tell you what's wrong! We have at our disposal the best roofing material on the planet, but you want to replace it with a bit of shoddy plastic!"

"What's wrong with plastic? We're using it for the other windows!"

"The other windows, Mr Wilde" Al began to explain, groaning and tired as he raised his paw to gesture. "Are all vertical. That means the water hitting it flows down. Now, the roof lights you want are at an angle, meaning…"

"The water STILL flows down," Dad urged, "and this acrylic is water proof. What's the problem?"

"The problem," the Wolf snorted, "is what happens when roof light meets roof!"

Dad opened his mouth, ready to say something really smart, only to pause for some strange reason. Al, meanwhile, just looked there with an annoying smug grin on his mouth. They stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before Dad shrugged and finally spoke. "Well WHAT happens when roof light meets roof?"

"Well, John. If we put the roof light _under_ the tiles, the water running onto the window from above, and the stuff falling onto it, will flow under the tiles at its base and into your house."

"I'm assuming that's bad," Dad mumbled, before his face lit up with an idea. "Why don't you put it over the tiles?"

"Because then John," Al said, a giant cheeky grin on his muzzle, "Water from above the window and the sides will flow under it, get in and… want to guess?"

"I'll admit here that that's bad," Dad muttered, before shouting out yet another of his great ideas. "Why don't you put the plastic both above and under the tiles."

Al just facepalmed at the idea, muttering some rude words under his breath before looking up at John. "It's a big sheet of plastic. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?

"Because it just doesn't OK? Listen, you make clothes, right?"

"Yes…"

"Now, surely you'll agree that there are some things that are either impossible or really hard to do with clothes and fabric and stuff, right?"

My Dad gave Al _that look_ followed by a cheeky wink. "Nothing that a bit of ingenuity can't fix!"

The Wolf just grunted, and bared his fangs at Dad as he gathered himself up. I suddenly felt scared, looking at the size difference between the two, and I flinched back as the larger Canine began to shout. "YOU'RE AN EXPERT JOHN! A PROFESSIONAL! I'M JUST MUSCLE FOR HIRE FROM A CONSTRUCTION SITE WHO'SE READ A FEW BOOKS! PLEASE… STOP MAKING LIFE HARD FOR ME!"

I unclenched, as did Dad, as the Wolf turned heel and began stomping away.

"Can't we just waterproof it…?"

Al stopped in his tracks, almost springing back and forth like a spring as he planted his feet firmly in the ground.

"I mean, back in Zootopia there are plenty of roof lights!"

Al spun around to face Dad, his tired eyes looking very impatient.

"I mean, it can't be that hard!"

Rolling his eyes, the Wolf turned to his left to gesture at the building site behind them. The bare rock on the ground had already been cleaned off, with the walls of the first floor already most of the way complete. The Lupine, however, seemed more interested in the large chimney at the back which he walked over to and leant on.

"See this chimney stack? The one you'll be using every day in winter, what with your fire burning at full pelt. Well, do you know how I've stopped water leaking through it and into the walls of your house?"

"…No…"

"Simple… it's not part of your house. It's a separate building! The only connection it makes are at the bottom where the burner will go. That's surrounded by the only waterproof material I could find, a custom cut, thin as you can get it, successful only after ten failed attempts bit of slate laid flush with the house walls. Now, I'm not going to lie, I should have guessed that we would need some lead for flashing, and I thought the metal sheeting we'd originally brought for roofing would do, but unless you've got a nice lead mine nearby and a talent for metalworking, this is the best we've got! Now, if you will excuse me, I've…"

Al paused suddenly and just stood there, starting to chuckle and then bending over, full blown laughing. Dad, looking very confused, stepped forward to check with him but Al just held his paw up. "Don't worry John! I've worked out a solution, and I'll assure you! You'll have more roof lights than you can imagine! Just don't complain to me that it's not what you had in mind…"

And with that, he left to check on some other work. The strange confrontation over, I walked forward to check on Dad and to see what our new house would look like.

.

Stepping between the two sides of our future front door, I looked around at what would be our new store. Unlike our old home, the inside walls were made of the same material as the outer walls, the long thin slabs of mountain rock which had been cemented into place. The floor was made of the same stuff too, albeit big flat tiles. Even though it had been in the sun all day, they still felt cold on my paw pads.

"Dad… won't the floor be freezing in winter?"

He nodded and smiled. "It will be, but don't worry. Come summer we'll be collecting everyone's old winter fur, and making some nice rugs out of them. The top floor's floor will be like the one in the barn, made out of wood. Look here, you can see one of the pillars that will support the beams!"

As he leant on one of the big bits of wall jutting from the main back wall, one of several dotted around the place, I turned to take the whole building in. It was about the same size as our store area back in Happytown, so it wasn't too bad. Turning and going past Dad, I went into the back and immediately stopped, seeing as there was no floor. Where the big stone tiles had been, there was nothing. Instead, just the bedrock with many little walls or pillars sprouting out of it, likely there to support the tiles when they were put in.

"This is our future lounge Nick!" Dad announced, as he hopped past me and made his way through the pillars and towards the big fireplace at the back. In our old place, we'd just had some stairs at the back of the store. Here, however, we had a lounge twice the size of the one back home. Wandering towards Dad, I paused as he picked me up and lifted me onto the stone wall. Balancing myself, I realised that it wasn't one wall by two, separated by a small gap, apart from the odd connecting bit of metal, by the looks of it a brass nail, here and there.

"Looking at the cavity, Son? Al says it's to stop water getting in… I mean seriously, you'd think he's afraid of the stuff. What harm can a little rain do?"

I giggle back in return and turn to look at the fireplace. Sure enough, Al was right. The big fireplace was separate from the rest of the building, with an continuous line of rock separating it from the rest of the building. Just like the door and windows on the town hall, the gap giving us access to the fireplace from the lounge had a big arch over it. Both house walls, inner and outer, and a connecting bit in the middle which slanted towards the outside also had the same arch. Pausing and twitching my mouth, I look down at Dad who was over by what I guessed would become the stairs.

"Dad?"

"Yes Son?"

"Are all the Windows and Doors going to be arched?"

"… That's what I argued with Al about yesterday!"

I couldn't help myself but giggle. "But I want a flat door!"

He guffawed back, before turning to look at me. "Said it was because, otherwise, the weight of everything above would cause the windows and doors to collapse!"

"Seriously! I think he's afraid of that! What harm can a little collapse do! Back in Zootopia, they have flat doors and windows. Why can't we have them!"

Dad managed to stop chuckling for a bit and made his voice as gruff as he could make it. Stretching himself up, he started his best, hammiest, Al impersonation possible. "Nope! We'd need TWO massive chunks of stone for that! Do you know how much effort it'll be to cut and move THAT! Now, I'm sorry I forget them there 'Metal Lintels' back in Zootopia, but this here Slate arch is the best we've got!"

Both of us couldn't help our giggles, especially when I realised something.

"Wait, You're Al now Dad!"

"I suppose I am, what are…"

"AWOOOOOOOO!"

As I howled out aloud, straining my lungs as hard as I could. Dad shrugged before joining in with his own "AWOOOOOO!"

Both of us howled out until we were almost out of breath, descending into giggles when we finished. But when we heard the third "AWOOOOO" off in the distance, followed by a very clear and angry "SCREW YOU JOHN!", we burst into a full-out fit of laughter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

.

It was early morning when Nick turned up to the well-furnished house, located in the embassy district of Zootopia. The Fox silently mused that you couldn't really call it a district, given that there were less than half a dozen embassies, but there wasn't really any other word you could use to describe such an area. While international skulkery was Nick's core priority of this stay in the city of his birth, the Vulpine saw no reason not to do some legitimate business here as well. Especially when he'd reacquainted himself with eggs…

The mere thought of the hot, fatty, gooey goodness was enough to make Nick salivate. Words simply could not describe them, they were by far and away his favourite food type, bar of course blueberries…

And blueberry pie…

And muffins…

Essentially anything blueberry related.

.

And Scorpion Tagine…

Nick shrugged, thinking to himself how, despite how awesome eggs were, they couldn't quite top the closely guarded scorpion tagine recipe that Finnick's family passed down from generation to generation. Regardless, eggs were his third…

Fourth! He'd just remembered battered and deep fried cockles, and thinking about it…

Regardless of their position on his top food list, scrambled, fried, poached or in omelette form, each and every breakfast for the last month had been made of such delicacies and boy, was Nick far away from getting fed up with them. Sure, they could use chickpea water as a substitute in baking, but there was nothing like having the real deal straight up. The Pred ships most certainly stocked up with eggs each time they left the city to head home, but they only had a shelf life of a month or two at most. Most of the time, they didn't even last a week, instead devoured in a city wide feeding frenzy.

The crux of the matter was that unlike fur, ivory or milk, mammals couldn't produce and sell eggs themselves (with the few that could able to meet but a fraction of demand). Fortunately, however, there were other animals that could. Off in the kingdom of Avaria, the great evolution hit about the same time as it did for mammals and, predictably, it had the same results. A rapid war between the Predators and Prey, that was eventually mended at a great peace accord.

A key section of the great mammal accord had been the agreement that prey mammals would collect their own milk which, combined with the corpses of the dead, would help provide the sustenance required for Preds to survive. As the years went on and, as fishing technology developed and bug farming took off, the latter solution rightfully became taboo while many smaller species stopped producing milk for sale all together. Of course, milk was still produced by large species like Elephants, Rhino's, Hippo's and Buffalo, and in many cases was a key source of income for them (back on the island, most cheeses were secretly imported and raw milk was far rarer and expensive, even though most mammals who were lactating sold their stuff to the town dairy for as long as they could, often for years).

Likewise, over in Avaria, it was eggs that were traded. Many Prey species used to produce large clutches, of which only a handful would grow to adulthood. After the accord, the vast majority of eggs would be given up with a few being raised into adults. Then, as the years went by, natural selection began to work in strange ways. Certain species who could provide large numbers of eggs, in return for food gathered by the Predators, would be better off and more able to provide for their children. In Zootopia, this effect meant that due to their Ivory, milk and sheer motive power, species like Elephants were vastly overrepresented compared to their historic population levels. It also meant that mammals like sheep evolved longer and longer coats to the point that sheering was required. Over in Avaria, the domestic Goose, Duck and Chicken evolved from their wild counterparts, while large Ratites prospered somewhat despite their flightless status (something even Nick knew was a major handicap over in that country). The end result? Today, Avarian eggs were traded across the world and were a key part of their economy.

As a result, today Nick would be brokering a deal to supply his hometown with regular egg shipments. He'd heard many good things about Avarians, and trading should be easy. They shared a common language with Zootopians, albeit pronounced with a far more astute, refined and less nasal accent (maybe due to their lack of noses). It was a common joke that any female mammal would fall for someone with the Avarian accent, especially if they were a lord of a manor, an international secret agent or most likely both.

.

The house in question didn't seem that far out of the ordinary, although Nick pondered just why two key members of a major egg exporter were in a house rather than a five-star hotel. But, when his knock was answered by one of the ugliest creatures he'd ever seen, it made sense in an instant. Its feathers were a mix of greys and browns which were covered in a greasy natural oil. Its feet were scaled things with sharp talons and a simple shuffle of its wings showed Nick how huge the folded up limbs were. But the worst thing by far was the smell of its breath, a revulsive pungent odour coming out from the big black beak fixed on his big, almost bald head. It was a vulture, the one sentient animal that in this day and age still ate other animals, albeit the corpses of those that had long since died of natural causes. Although Nick pulled back initially, taken aback by the odd creature in front of him (this was the first bird, period, he'd ever set his eyes on) the business animal, dressed in a grubby tracksuit and hoody of all things, seemed completely unfazed.

"Mr Nick, Chuffed to meet yow. Cam in and lets get to werk!"

Nick blinked, cocking his head at what had just been said. As if picking up his confusion, the creature across from him smiled (or as much as you could do with a solid beak) and shrugged.

"Nai't the standaird accent, ay it? Stawp gawkin an come in!"

Nick couldn't help think that that was the understatement of the decade. This Avarian accent, or dialect for that matter, certainly wasn't the traditionally refined, posh and clear manner of speaking he was expecting. On low rent sitcoms, men would be driven to outrageous actions by the mere mention that an Avarian was moving in, inevitably going onto some long tirade about how the girls all fell for the charismatic accent (which the girls would at first deny, and then concede). Somehow, he couldn't see the same happening for these two given their slurred letters and bizarre words.

"Wim used ta that. Arm Sid. Mi partner Bob am inside. Urry up, time am wonga!"

Shrugging, Nick followed the Vultures inside, ready to barter out some international trade agreements.

.

"So… are you REALLY from Avaria" Nick asked as he stood down at the table. Across from him was Sid, who'd introduced himself as a white headed Griffon vulture, and Bob, a white and black Bearded vulture who was currently slouching back in his chair and fussing his feather beard with his prehensile feather fingers, before replying back.

"Ar, Blackboid country born un bred!"

"Ar spent mi furst 21 years in Billston!" Sid loudly chipped in, with his business partner nodding and adding his own to the lot.

"As for mi! Doveloi!"

"Diddant yow spend four years in Trumijum?"

"Wossant four years Sid," Bob loudly replied, seeming somewhat indignant. "It war two…" As if recognising the fact that their guest had already completely lost the pace of the conversation, Bob the Lammergeier turned to face the Fox and shrugged. "Ar think yow pronounce it Tern-ing-ham… know where it am now?"

"No…"

"Secun city of Avaria, bottom middle of country…"

"Still don't know…"

"Cam an Nick, Trumijum! City wit more cuts than…"

"CAN we please just get on with the egg trade, please!" Nick almost shouted out, his patience already beginning to wear thin with the two. It got their attention, and after a moments silence Sid harrumphed and leant forward.

"Sorry, ar forgot that non-vultures, day have a not bostin sense av patience…"

"Ar mean seriously," Bob piped in, to Sids enthusiastic nods. "All ta fuss about sloths in D-em-V. People these days cor wait five hours without Podgin!"

"Say's Yow! Ta chippy closed down for night, yow gave up waiting at 3 in morning!"

"And I say, that was when ar saw sign saying thaten war bust!"

It was at that point that a loud grumble, louder than even the two Avians heated discussion, plied them back to the Fox sitting across from them. They turned their heads to each other, nodded slightly, before Sid ducked down to pick up a briefcase full of files.

"Naw, Mr Nick, letz get gewin! Naw, bout' the purity of your tat, how can you ensure…"

The Griffon vulture paused as he saw the strange expression or revulsion taking over the Fox in front of him. Following the path of the vulpine's eyes, he looked over and spotted the rather large bone that his companion had brought out, along with the large hammer he'd picked up in his wing.

"Mr… Bob… What is that…" Nick managed to utter out.

"Thissen?" the creature innocently asked, holding up his hammer. "It's mi ommer!"

"Not that," the disgusted Fox mumbled, before pointing to the bone. "That!"

"Femur" the Lammergeier immediately, and non-chalantly replied back.

"A… Femur…"

"Yup, Femur! From Eliphunt!"

"That's a bone… from an Elephant."

"Don't worry, he's long jed!"

"… I can see that Elephant is Dead…" Nick slowly replied, "I can see he's dead and you're…"

"I'm gonna it ta bone wit my ommer, un eat ta bostin marrow inside…"

Nick just looked on speechless, in disbelief, something that the bone eating bird picked up on.

"OK, aright," he mumbled, shrugging as he did so. "I'll be eating somma ta bone too. Ah'm nawt am babbie. I dow leave ta bone on side. Tis the best bit, don't yow know."

There was a pregnant pause as the three creatures looked on at each other, the awkwardness of the situation becoming increasingly palpable.

"Could you… could you please not eat other intelligent animals… especially mammals… in front of me?" Nick asked, trying desperately to be courteous rather than revolted.

"Bob…" Sid announced, "ar think yam making him go on the box…"

The Lammergeier paused for a moment, before nodding and putting away his mid-morning snack. Getting back up, he shrugged, and casually asked Nick an innocent question. "Ta Eliphunt is long jed, his kidda get paid for funeral, rather than paying for it. Dow see what's wrong wit that?"

"Ova ere, thay just weird Bob," Sid piped in. "Ar mean, it's a growin export ere. Jed bodies. Ar hear most big mammals lost their bostin werk, with mice n' things tekkin the computer jobs. We're tekkin food, thay am mekkin money. All this seems bostin?"

"Part from fact thay all blartin babbies!" Bob replied, pointing one of his feather fingers accusingly at a frowning Nick.

"Summat like that Bob," Sid replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "ar mean, jed meat am dead bostin. The jeder and more on the box it am, the more bostin! Ar once had oss, half rotten, crawling with maggots! Totally on the cag-mag." Bob nodded enthusiastically as his partner continued, his speech getting ever more enthusiastic as he held his fingers and closed his eyes, as if in the peak of a taste-gasm. "The taste developed ova those three weeks war simply dead Bostin! Sooo gamey! Something tat in yer yed Nick, if yow saying yow don't find that…"

Sid paused mid-sentence as both he and Bob looked forward, noticing them empty seat in front of them. The Griffon vulture made a motion to ask where their potential business partner had vanished, until a loud retching from nearby answered that. A few moments later, Nick (with a considerably emptier stomach) wandered back in.

"Can we actually get back to business…" was all he asked, groaning somewhat before resigning himself to whatever happened next.

"Sorry bout that…" Sid muttered, "I mean I…"

"YOU EAT REAL MEAT" Nick suddenly screamed as he finally snapped, standing up and leaning forwards across the table towards them. "…AND YET I'M THE ONE WEARING A SHOCK COLLAR!"

"…Ay my fault yow government is Tat…" Bob shrugged, before outstretching one of his feather fingers and prodding the collar around Nick's neck. "An yow secret am safe wit me."

His eyes widening, Nick sat down back onto his chair. An odd silence rested across the table for a few moments, before Nick silently muttered out a few words. "So you know it's bust?"

"I think yow just proved it," Sid replied, a smile somehow growing across his beak. "And ar think ta collars ay not needed. Nasty bit of werk, innit?"

For once in the conversation, a smile grew across Nick's face. Finding some solidarity with his cause from across the seas, however vulgar it may be, he settled back into his seat and began the conversations anew. "Now, fine gentleman…"

"Fine gentlemen?" Bob coughed out in shock, before knocking his chest several times and coming to his senses. "Yo avvin a loff? Arm tat! Sid is tat! Down near ta bottom of ta pecking order!"

"Pecking order…?" Nick asked, before immediately regretting his question.

"Image a bonk," Sid began, not noticing Nick's double facepalm. "Lovely birds like Swans and Tits and eagles up top…"

"Speak all la-de-da!" Bob chipped in, before letting Sid continue.

"Gulls in the middle un Vultures are near ta bottom! Not down wit flightless birds though, no."

"Notin wrong wit Ostriches and Penguins. They werk, build un fish…"

"But a Kiwi?"

"Naw physical point or purpose for Kiwis. Warra tat creature!"

"Better jed than a kiwi!"

A rather large cough picked up the vulture attention and, turning back to face an increasingly irate Nick, they blinked several times in muted silences. "Can we pleeeaase get back on track," the Fox finally said, before the two birds nodded in agreement.

"Bostin…" Bob began, with Sid nodding in response.

"Ok, we have a vast supply of…" Nick began, only to be interrupted as Sid, once more, began to speak.

"Talking bout' tracks. Ay yam railways a load of tat!"

Bob nodded in agreement, before adding his own opinion to the exchange. "Gewin ova to Duckdon… Twentyone big stations. Each wit six to thirty platform!"

"An Zootopia central?" Sid asked rhetorically, "Four!"

"Summat wrong when Zootopia central has jut four platforms..."

"Un line to Bunnyburrow is one line. Summit wrong int yed, if yam building an intercity line wit one track!"

"We av two lines af double track fram Trumijum to Duckdon!"

"Quad and six track down there! 'Specially when goin' inta Gooston…" Sid said, before pausing for thought. "Though yow station does look much nicer than Gooston, I say that…"

The small bit of conceding by his partner had no effect on Bob, who spoke out with even more passion. "Zootopia has little babbie railways. And we are ones wit wings!"

"It was ta Elephants Bob! Over ere, Elephant carry eavy stuff and do eavy work, pulling boats on cuts."

"I remember, an ova in Avaria, we built railway to move freight! But still av lots o cuts 'ere n there."

"Summat like tat Bob." Sid agreed, before speaking outwards in the vague direction of Nick's seat as he directed the next bit of his speech to him. "Un while flying is dead bostin, it gets tiring so we then go on the trains…"

"And when we get to station, we just fly last little distance."

"Exactly, no cars needed."

"Unless yow a tat species like a Kiwi, or Kakapo…"

"Ain't a kakapo ova int Weaverbirdhall?"

"Naw," Bob said, before pausing and smiling, his voice becoming mellower as he remembered times gone by. "But I had dead Bostin chick down there…"

"Wench chick?" Sid asked, "Or babbie Chick…."

"No! Sid, I ain't into Babbies or Kidda's!" Bob shouted out, insulted by his partner's grievous insinuation. "I Ay on the box! Me girlfriend Zero…"

"The Seagull?" Sid asked, suddenly perking up.

"The seagull…" Bob replied, nodding his head in agreement.

"Bob, that Seagull war dead Bostin."

"Dead Bostin…"

"Dead Bostin."

"Dead… Dead… Dead… Bostin!"

"Wossant it an Eagle she dumped yow for?"

"Yup. But warra chick!

"Warra chick… Nick, yow av any dead bostin girlfriends…."

Sid's question remained unanswered and as he, and Bob, looked around, he was nowhere to be seen. Unbeknownst to them, he'd given up and left right after they said 'Truminjum' for the third time.

.

The sun was approaching its zenith and Nick, having regained his composure and mask after the indescribably irritating encounter with the complex and befuddling world of Avarian regional dialects, was strolling along the pavement. He didn't have anything major to do for the rest of the day, just some minor errands to get out of the way. Maybe he'd still have time to strike a deal with the chicken egg company which also operated nearby, and ideally they wouldn't have thick, deep Cockerelney or Partwegian accents. As time went on, he was able to build up his smooth, dapper mask to the point where he was able to perfectly hold it in place, even as a police car pulled up next to him and a very cute Bunny officer, at the behest of the very annoying goat he'd encountered a few days ago, arrested him for assault.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

**.**

**_Winter 1993_ **

.

The blackness was all around me. Even my night vision could barely make anything out, such was the lack of the light. It was horrific. It was terrible. Any semblance of fairness had long since passed from the world as I was forced to shuffle forwards on all fours, the top of my head brushing on the cold stone roof hanging just above me while my ears folded down hard. If I knew any curse words, I'd be saying them at this point, especially as my nose painfully smashed up against yet another stone pillar, on of many that littered this place. I grumbled, silently vowing to grow my whiskers out so that, if this ever occurred again (which seemed to be a very likely occurrence), I'd at least have some guidance around the place. The ground was freezing and damp, to the point that my pads were numb. If the area had been any lower, the front of my clothes would likely be ruined as well.

_THUD…._

I paused, my ears hunkering down even more than they already were as the whole area shook, streams of dust coming down on me. I had to stay quiet, but as the dust trickling down landed onto my moist noise I felt a small itch develop. Then a larger itch. My eyes opening in horror at the realisation, I vainly fought the urge to inhale.

My body betraying me, I pulled in three deep breaths….

And I sneezed it all out in an instant.

_"I heard him!"_

_"Where?"_

_"I think it was over here!"_

Scowling, I heard the pounding of feet on the other side of the roof, before a tell-tale knock above me.

"We got you Slick?"

"YES!" I loudly grumbled, bitter that I'd lost the same bet _yet_ again. That meant I'd be down here next time as well, rather than Honey taking her turn for once. Nevermind, because even as she giggled and laughed up above me, sending _even more_ dust onto me, I had a job to do. Making my way forward, weaving through the last of the supports that held up the stone floor above me, I outstretched my paws and my mouth to grasp the tight bundles of sticks I'd been reaching for. Firmly grasping the firewood, I began to make my way back, swishing my tail from left to right behind me, building up a picture of the route in my head. Occasionally letting go of the wood in my jaws, I'd glance behind me to make sure I was heading back towards the square of dim light that I was following, before grasping it again and carrying on.

A few minutes later, I reached the exit point and, standing up, was brought face to face with an annoyingly smug Honey, an equally smug Ben standing not far behind her.

"Guess who'll be pickin up the firewood next time he's around?" she smugly teased, prodding my nose with an outstretched claw as if to add insult to injury.

Recoiling, and batting her away, I looked back at her with a bitter scowl that matched my mood. "I'll get to the wood undetected ONE day!"

"Sure…." She yawned.

"You only got lucky that time, you know that?!"

"Or maybe Slick Nick just ain't as Slick and sneaky as Slick Nick sez he is!" The Honey Badger teased back, sticking out her tongue at me.

Shaking my head and grumbling, I ignored her and hopped out of the crawlspace, pulling up the heavy bundles of kindling behind me. Knowing full well that she wouldn't give one iota of help, I finished the dirty job off by unlatching the wooden hatch from the bottom side of the stairs and letting in slam shut on the ground, sealing the crawlspace once more.

"Don't slam the hatch, Nick!"

I turned, this time to face a second Honey Badger. Madge had been very quiet throughout all of this, just huddling by the fire as her younger sister and Clawhauser had tried to detect where I was beneath the floor. It didn't seem like she was trying to be annoying, but I'd have thought that she'd at least try to show some sympathy. Instead, I just shook my head and grabbed two of the five bundles beneath my arms, before wandering over the fireplace. Repeating the trip twice for the three other bundles, all four of us settled back down on the thick rug in front of the roaring hearth, letting the heat warm our fur.

The winter solstice was finally here, and it was cold. Far colder than back at home. Back in Zootopia, it rarely dipped below freezing (bar tundratown, which barely rose above zero), but our islands, as well as being to the east of Zootopia, were someway north as well. This meant that we'd been having frosts since November, and the first snow had fallen a week ago. Now, as night approached, it was five below and falling.

I didn't have that much of an issue with that, given that I had a nice thick winter coat which I could puff out when I wanted to. The Wolves and some of the big cats were the same, while our one polar bear loved it. The other Bears had long since tucked themselves in for their hibernation, leaving the rest of the mammals to wrap up warm, huddle by their fires and survive. For Honey and Clawhauser, it was perfectly fine. They just had some thick jumpers, and a nice blazing fire on at all times. For a few of the desert mammals however, it was miserable. Finnick and his family hadn't stepped out of their home since the snow had first fallen. The last time I saw them, they all had colds and were wrapped up together in a bundle, huddling by their fire.

Fortunately, the other mammals would look after the bug farms and deliver wood and food straight to their door so they didn't need to leave. Even Al, who was still 'recovering' from his work building up the entire town over summer and autumn, had been forced to move into action by the Fennecs plight. He promised that, next summer, they'd have more supplies back from Zootopia and, by next winter, all the houses would be well insulated and have central heating and electricity.

.

**SNAP!**

.

All four of us were suddenly shaken as some of the firewood let out a massive crack, hot embers sparking out in all directions. A big one, a glowing hot chunk of wood, shot straight towards me only to hit the fine metal mesh of the spit guard that covered the entire hearth.

"I wasn't scared…"

"YES you were Honey!" Madge immediately complained, batting her younger sister on the back of her head. Honey scowled for a second, before turning and shoving her sister back. Madge pushed Honey and then Honey prodded Madge and so Madge tickled Honey and soon the two tough Honey badgers were tickling each other furious.

"Madge…" Ben warned as he moved in to try and separate them

"Honey…" I said likewise, not liking where they this going.

Madge Badger didn't care. Honey Badger didn't care. Thankfully, the whole thing was broken up as the lounge door shuddered open, and Mr and Mrs Badger shuffled in with dinner. Looking at their two daughters fighting, they scowled slightly before just shrugging.

"They're at it again, Bart…" Mrs Badger complained, as Mr Badger just walked past us all to the fire. Pulling the guard open, he took two of the stick bundles and tossed them on, closing the guard up just as they began to furiously spark and crackle and hiss.

Mr Badger, or Bartrand as my Dad called him, turned to face me and Clawhauser, smiling. "Such a pity, seeing as we got some special treats from the boat as desert for you lot. I guess Ben and Nick will be getting double!"

"YES!" Ben immediately shouted out loud, a giant smile on his face as he fist pumped in celebration. I had a giant grin on my face too and, turning to face the big cheetah, we high-tenned before turning back to the two sisters who were looking on with their jaws on the floor.

"Don't worry girls," Chloe said with a sly grin on her muzzle, if you're really good you'll get the marshmallows and chocolate too.

"MARSHMALLOWS!"

On hearing that the girls all-time favourite treat was at stake, their behaviour changed remarkably. Standing up tall and neatening their clothes, they walked up with us to the first-floor kitchen in silence. It wasn't really a kitchen up in here, just a table, chairs and a little work surface with some cabinets underneath. Everyone got their food from the big kitchen in the town hall, and the Badgers were no exception. As we sat down, with the sisters taking the effort to tuck themselves in and to even ask for some napkins to tuck into their shirts like posh ladies did (to which a giggling Mrs Badger said they had none), the first course came out. It was a hot, creamy, tangy seafood soup. As we dug in (except for the sisters, who were eating as if they were at the lord mayors banquet) it occurred to me that I knew exactly where all of this food had come from.

The bits of shellfish and snails: the muscles, cockles, clams, razorshells, scallops and winkles; had all come from the beach combing in the summer. We had big barrels of malt vinegar which we stuffed lots of it into to preserve it, the sharp tangy taste still coming through now despite the other flavours. One of the Bears, who worked as a chemistry teacher, had said that he'd be able to make the stuff himself if Dad brought over barley seeds and the right equipment from Zootopia. Dad and most of the men thought it would be too hard and complex, but they seemed oddly enthusiastic when he said that the process would also make Beer.

The fish was either white fish like Cod or smoked mackerel. The waters out to sea were teeming with fish, and the Otters who'd been going out there with their nets had brought in tons of it. The white fish had been gutted straight away and frozen in one of the few freezers we'd brought with us (kept cold by one of the diesel generators, which we also used to run the other cooking stuff). As for the mackerel, we quickly built a smokehouse and, after covering the fish with salt, left it hanging in there for weeks at a time to smoke. There were the vegetables too, carrots (which, when put in a soup like this, were tolerable) and onions, leeks and potatoes (although the potatoes themselves were more a fine mush stirred into the soup, to make it thick). The sauce of the soup was made from the water used to boil down the white fish, with some herbs from the greenhouses added in for flavour. This had been added to a mix of flour from our wheat, as well as margarine. Other things had been added as well, such as lots of grated garlic, ginger and horseradish. Finally, some dollops of cool mayonnaise had been put in the top, to give an interesting extra bit of flavour.

The mayonnaise had been very difficult to make, with oil made from crushing the rapeseed whisked up with the water used to boil the chickpeas in (which were then fed straight to the bugs). Apparently, back in Zootopia, a lot of the mayonnaise was made with olive oil and eggs and, thinking back, it had tasted a good deal nicer. The margarine, though I didn't think you could really call it that given that it was white instead of yellow and didn't taste half as good as the usual stuff, was even crazier to make. The Bear who was going to do the vinegar and beer next year had a whole crazy chemistry set to make it, with bits of metal dust going into the vegetable oil and big bottles of water that he sparked water through! I'm not going to lie, I had no idea what was going on, though he said it was to do with _'hydrogenation'_ or something. Whatever it was, I felt it was best to leave that stuff in his hands, seeing as the first few attempts to get the water sparking things working blew up the bottles! The bear promised that, given enough time, new equiptment and the setting up of a town milk bank, he'd eventually get something just like the old stuff. In the mentime, I couldn't help but think about life back in Zootopia, where the schools were teaching boring stuff instead of showing us cool stuff like that!

I remembered asking Finnick's Mum (back when she still worked in the kitchens and not huddling with her family) about where she got the recipe for the soup from. She said that they got it from nowhere. A similar dish occurred in Zootopia, but it used lots of little bits of fresh fish that no one liked, no shellfish, cream and butter instead of mayonnaise and margarine, celery as the only vegetable and paprika as the main spice. She said that they'd used what they had, experimented a bit, and come up with their own recipe. When I asked her what it was called, she joked that it was called mollycoddle stew. Over the last few months, the name had sort of stuck.

It didn't take long for Mr and Mrs Badger, and Ben and I, to finished our mollycoddle and, as Madge and Honey politely finished off their soup with some of the fresh homemade bread, the grownups brought in the main course. Three lobsters, hot steamy and red, and three crabs which had been cooked and then left to cool down. All of it had been freshly caught earlier in the day by the otters, who said that there were hundreds of those things down on the sea floor. Over the next half hour, four of us smashed and scooped and in some cases sucked the tasty meat out of them (with the Badger sisters politely taking the time to show off their table manners) until all that was left was the battered and bruised shells, along with six stuffed mammals. Much to the girl's delight, their parents agreed that they'd earned the right to full deserts, which would be served after enough time to let their food go down.

So, for the next half hour, we just snoozed or read books by candlelight in the chairs or on the rugs in front of the fire. Mrs badger even got out a sketchbook at one stage and drew me all curled up in front of the flames. The first I knew about it was when I was woken up by Ben squealing, talking about something which he found indescribably cute. I'm not sure how I feel about that thing being me. After a quick round of charades (they got me instantly as robin hood, while we spent half the time trying to work out what Honey's dad was (apparently, it was Reptoslav premier Joseph Geckto)) it was finally time for the marshmallows, of which a bag of sixteen was brought out. Three each for the larger mammals (Mr and Mrs Badger and Ben) and two each for the small ones (Madge, Honey and Me). When I asked about the final marshmallow, Mrs Badger (in a very muffled, chewy voice) asked, "What marshmallow?

Next came the milk chocolate, a whole bar of the real deal. All the others got a nice big bit of the stuff, but when Mrs Badger came over to me I only got half as much.

"That's not fair!" I complained immediately, only for Mrs Badger to sigh and put her arm on my shoulder.

"It isn't fair," she began, "but it's not my fault that it's tough. Untreated chocolate, and I did ask to see if they had some treated stuff, contains chemicals which can badly damage Foxes like you. It says here on the wrapper that, given your weight, this is the most I can give you. If you tried to eat this whole bar, which is enough to make me sick, there's a good chance you could die."

"But…"

"No buts… trust me, I've seen many cases of theobromine poisoning, it isn't pretty."

Defeated, I sighed and took my paltry half row of chocolate. I knew that there were a lot of things that sucked about being a Fox (although they were currently outweighed by how awesome it was) but not being able to eat chocolate was right up there at the top.

Mr Badger moved the spit guard out of the way as we all stuck our chocolate stuffed marshmallows into sticks, before all moving forward to toast our treats. Slowly but surely, the white fluffiness toasted brown while the chocolate went all gooey. Finally, after what seemed to be enough time, we all brought out the desert treats and took a big bite, the sweet goodness exploding into our mouths. It was sooooooo gooood! My eyes closed tight and tail wagged furiously, all while my face widened into a giant grin. Finally, as the treat dissolved into a mush, I finished savouring it and swallowed, letting it slip down my mouth and into my tummy. Opening my eyes, it looked like everyone had the same reaction. We didn't have much sweet stuff over here, though Mr Badger had been building up bee hives which he said would make lots of honey next year, so something as small and simple like that was a luxury that deserved respect. We were all silent for a while, as if mourning for the deserts passing but, as time went on and the snow fell outside, we settled down for a game of cards to whittle away the hours.

.

.

.

" _Nick…"_

_"NICK…"_

_Wake up Nick!"_

Yawning as I opened my eyes and stretched, I looked up to see my Mum standing above me and smiling. With a smile on my muzzle I uncoiled myself, before pushing down with my forepaws to send me upright and then doing the most important thing of all. Walking forward to hug her tight.

"Seems like you dozed off, didn't you?"

"Yes, Mum…" I replied. Taking time to look around, I spotted Honey next to me, also fast asleep. Madge was over in a chair, her head deep in a book. It was only then that I noticed the loud snoring, coming straight from the wide-open mouth of Mr Badger, who was fast asleep in his chair.

"He did…" Mrs Badger announced as she too stood up from her chair, before wandering over to pick up Honey in her hands. "And I'm not going to lie, he was incredibly cute while doing it…"

"That I know," Mum replied, evidently ignoring my annoyed scowl, clear enough evidence at my displeasure at this embarrassment.

"So, I'm hoping you're fine with me keeping _This,"_ she asked while making her way over to the stairs.

It was only as she moved up, a sleeping Honey cradled in her arms, that I spotted the new picture that adorned the walls. Sketched out in pencil in full colour, lying in front of the burning fire on a rug, was me. ME! All wrapped up on myself, tail covering my nose, and even with my snaggletooth poking out.

"MUM!"

"We can't have that there Chloe," my Mum replied, tutting slightly as she spoke. "Not unless I get a copy…"

" **MUM!** "

Trying hard to stifle her laughter, Mrs Badger poked her head down to give one last word. "You take the original, just let me take a copy first. Anyway, got to put the little one away. Night."

"Night," my Mum said back with a wave, before turning to lead me home. We exited the warm back lounge and stepped into the storefront of their pharmacy. The Badger's home was the same design as our one, albeit without Al's 'Rooflight', and just like our storefront this one was filled up with materials, albeit in a complete jumble of crates and boxes that looked nothing like their Zootopian equivalents. It was also colder… much colder. There were no rugs to keep my pawpads off the freezing stones and no blazing fire to warm the air. At least with the bedrooms we'd got big jugs of water, almost boiled over the fire and then placed in the cold rooms, which would warm them up for bedtime. Here however, the air hit you with a mighty chill.

But it was nothing compared to going out into the open night. I almost shook at the first blast of cold and, in the time it took for my winter coat to fluff itself all the way up, I felt myself shiver and my teeth chatter. All in front of us the land was covered in snow. The muddy park, and the skeletal trees that had been planted around its perimeter, were all covered in white as was the town hall in front of us (as well the community toilet and what was going to be the baths, hidden behind).

Over the course of the year, the whole arcade of shops had been finished with most of them providing family homes for our people. Some were empty right now, built but without occupiers, while others were homes to hibernating mammals. But ours, on the other side, was all stocked up and well used.

Which made the lack of lights rather confusing.

I was OK with the candles in the shop area being off right now, it made sense. But, as I ran across the park and got the entire west side in my view, I realised that no lights were on. The side window which should be glowing with the light of the fire was black, as was those throughout the top floor. Even Dad's roof-light, or rather the set of tiles above his room made out of the clear plastic used for windows instead of slate, was black. Normally, it should have been striped yellow and black, the lines of light coming out from between the timbers the plastic was nailed to.

"Mum…" I began to say, concern rising in my mind as I turned back to face her. However, I was silenced as I saw the wide grin in her mouth, her teeth reflecting the moonlight. Thoroughly confused, I cocked my head sharply to my left as I tried to figure out what she was up to. She only giggled, taking my hand and leading us up the towns centre street, which lay directly in front of the town hall and between the two rows of houses, and led up the mountain.

"Mum…" I said again, "where are we going?"

"Oh," she replied with a shrug, "it's a surprise."

Going past the back yards of the houses, spotting the odd toilet installed right there so as to help the mammals struggling with the cold, we moved up onto the wasteland. It was a gentle slope up, before the mountain became forested again and began to rise steeply. Nothing had been built here, yet, but Al had been experimenting with road designs all winter and had plans to expand up here come next year. Instead, we were practically back in the wilderness, the snow under our paws crunching as we made our way forward. Despite the lack of light, my night vision was more than enough. The moon and the stars, millions and millions more stars that I'd ever seen before, were enough to light our way. Looking up the mountain, I paused as I saw a bright burning light up above. Pausing out of curiosity, my head must have tilted almost ninety degrees to the side as I stared at it, before turning up to Mum.

"Mum, that looks like a star on earth…"

She smiled, almost giggling, and came over to place her paw on my shoulder. Leaning over, she whispered four words in my ear.

"You could say that…"

.

.

.

With all the wood fires burning, the town had had a nose tickling smell of smoke over it for the last month. But up here, the air was heavy with the scent of fresh smoke and ash. As I got closer to the star that had fallen from heaven, it became clearer and clearer that it was a great bonfire. It roared and cracked and burned far more viciously than any of the small fires back in the town, while glowing embers were lifted high up into the sky, joining the stars until they fizzled out. I began to feel the heat from miles away, and as I got closer and closer it felt like high summer again. The light was so bright, I had to shield my eyes for a bit until I finally reached the clearing. We'd been following the track used to bring stone down, but here it had been cut back to create a large level area, lit of by the blaze. It was so hot, almost like a furnace, and much of the snow had melted. It was so bad that, underneath all my winter fur and jumpers, I began to physically pant from the heat.

"Glad you two made it!"

My eyes widened, and to the side of the fire I saw my Dad, a giant grin on his face and in nothing but a vest and some shorts. Something was very wrong.

"Paps…"

Before I could say some more he ran forwards to me, grabbing me tight and lifting me up, before swinging me around and around laughing. I didn't know what to say and, as he finally let me down and I stumbled away, I just looked on with confusion. Mum began taking her clothes off too, her thick trousers and blouse, until she too was in a vest and …. Lady underwear. And that just left me, roasting myself and panting furiously, as my two parents turned to face me.

"You're too hot…" Dad began, smiling as he did so. "Come on, get your clothes off…"

"… what?" was all I could say, mumbling it under my breath.

My parents paused, before my Dad began giggling, then full on laughing. "He doesn't know! He's forgotten it all! Fantastic! I get to tell him it all!"

"Tell me what!?"

"The story of firekeeping!"

"Firekeeping?"

"You know, the tradition with the candles…"

I paused, thinking back, before I remembered. Every winter solstice, like most mammals, we celebrated the winter festival. As far as I knew, it was just a hundred or so little customs different mammals had which had merged together. And as we had our meal, we'd take turns passing our hands through a row of candles. Mum and Dad didn't seem excited about it each time we did it, it was just something we had to do. Besides, you couldn't get excited about anything with your collar on, but we did it none the less. I suppose I should have put two and two together and guessed that it was a red fox custom, but I didn't. If my parents had told me the story about it at one point, I'd long since forgotten it. Whatever story was behind it, I guessed that I was about to be reminded of it, so I nodded my head and began to strip too. Soon I was down to my underwear and, settling down by the burning fire, I nestled in next to my parents as Dad began to tell the story.

"Long ago, when the world was old, the gods…"

"I thought you didn't believe in god!"

"… Can you let me finish the story Nick, please? It'll be so much better if I can say it all!"

"Ok… Sorry Paps."

He chuckled, before patting me hard on the back. "Apology accepted Son. Now, back when the world was old, and the peace between predator and prey still young, there were many great gods that ruled the world. But many were greedy, and they split things between them, taking even the sun itself. It was said that there was a great winter that lasted hundreds of years. Grass didn't grow, or trees or fruit, and Prey mammals starved. With Prey mammals starving, there wasn't enough milk to feed the Predators and many had to turn to killing the Prey to survive. They say that this, even after the peace treaty, was why the prey were so scared of us even to this day."

"Did this winter really happen?" I asked, before clamping my mouth shut as I released I'd broken my promise. Whatever shame I felt quickly went however, when Dad just shrugged.

"I've read in a few places that a rock from space hit the world, or a great volcano erupted. They say that dust covered the planet, and all cultures and species record the great winter in some way or form. Over in Primaiti they say, it got so cold that the hairless apes all froze to death, or at least enough did that they never recovered. In Avaria meanwhile, they claim that the sun fell out of the sky until a great condor lifted it back up on its back. Maybe it was the gods? Maybe its just a good story that everyone shares. But our story… Our story picks up when Gaia, the god of the earth and life, sat weeping in her garden. For you see, everything was dying without the light."

"But all was not lost," Mum suddenly said, startling me. "For there was a brave Fox Todd who wanted to change things. He knew he had to face the gods, and the gods could control any animal by uttering their name, so first he shed his name. To this day, we only call him the nameless Fox, because he had none."

"And using his keen ears, the nameless Fox heard Gaia's weeping." Dad continued, before handing back to Mum.

"Using his nose, he sniffed out her salty tears, so numerous that they filled the oceans."

"And using his night vision, he saw her hunched over, having given up any chance of saving her children. And to her, the nameless Fox came, and promised to return the Sun."

"Gaia at first was confused, for a mortal does not simply go up to the realms of the Gods. Does he?"

"No, for no mortal could stand the might and anger of a God."

"But! The nameless Fox argued, he would not face the might and anger of the Gods. The Gods had taken the sun for their own, and after their victory thought themselves invincible."

"But they were envious of one another, and squabbled and bickered."

"And so, the nameless Fox had a plan to make them face the might of one another, with him the victor."

"Gaia was impressed, but she still knew the greatest challenge was yet to come. For the sun was hungry, hungry beyond compare. The Fox would be burned before he could return it to the earth, so she came up with a plan."

"Everything agreed, the nameless Fox was launched to the sky!" Mum almost shouted, jumping up and spreading her arms as she did so. "He navigated along the paths of the stars, sailed along the great milky way, before skulking into the halls of the gods themselves."

"At first he whispered in their ears," Dad said, doing so as he spoke. "Making them think the others had insulted them. Then, he snatched on to the messenger god, who had long seen the senseless destruction below, and he connived with him to alter the messages. Turning the apologies into spiteful insults."

"Soon the gods were up in arms upon one another, and the tired king of the Gods…"

"Some just call him God now."

"Or Aslan."

"Or Ganesh,"

"Or mother Goose,"

"Or the lord Capybara,"

"But whoever he was, he had enough. The sky was filled with fire and lightning from the bickering. And out loud, he pleaded for anyone to help him silence the rabble."

"And to him came the nameless Fox, promising to silence all the bickering if he let the sun be returned to earth, free forever more."

"The king of the Gods refused. Even he gained from its power. But sighing, the nameless Fox offered another option. Just give him a chance to return the sun himself."

"And to this, the King of the Gods agreed. Knowing full well that the nameless Fox couldn't return back to earth without the greedy sun consuming him."

"And so, the nameless Fox was able to blackmail the gods into making peace, for he had collected all their secrets too. The messenger God forged apologies, but soon he didn't have to as the gods agreed to the peace themselves. And so, true to his word, the king of the Gods took the nameless Fox to the altar that contained the sun. And said he was free to try to rescue it."

"The nameless Fox looked up to the sun and begged him, for the sake of his freedom and that of all others, to sate its hunger. But the suns hunger was infinite, even when shrunk down small enough for the nameless Fox to carry. Despite the pain of its hunger, the Sun promised to try, and try it did. For the nameless Fox had carried it out of the hall of the gods, before it gave in and tried to nibble."

"It ate the Fox!" I burst out, before Dad giggled.

"It tried to, but it had to choke back at the terrible taste. For you see, Gaia had forged one last creation with her energy, A poisonous plant, pink and spotted, that the Fox wore upon his paws."

"At first it worked. But the Suns hunger was such that it tried to nibble again. And again. And, by the time the journey was almost at an end, freedom in sight, it developed a taste for the plant protecting the Fox's digits."

"In an instant, the gloves were gone. Enough to sate his hunger for a few seconds, but then he rumbled. The pangs and aches become too great and, despite trying to hold himself back, he couldn't help but take one fleeting nibble. At first fur, then skin, then flesh and bone."

"The nameless Fox was distraught, he had lost an arm. He begged the sun, 'do not feast upon me, when we are so near?'"

"The Sun apologised, promising not to feast anymore. But as he promised, he was already making his way through the nameless Fox's other paw."

"And then, when the Fox carried him on the tips of his ears, those too were eaten."

"The same for the tip of his tail."

"And finally, as the nameless Fox saw Gaia running to meet him, he carried the sun on his hindpaws."

"They too burning before Gaia finally claimed the sun for earth."

.

"And did the sun get set free Paps?" I asked, my ears pricked for the conclusion of this story.

"Yes, yes it was. And warmth returned to the land, and Gaia's garden returned. Taking the nameless Fox into a deep sleep, she let her gardens plants and their herbal cures return and she fixed him. She binded the ash and char floating in space, what was left of his limbs, with ash and soil of her own garden. She rebuilt his eartips, his tail, and his limbs, and they are coloured like that to this day."

My eyes widened, and I looked down at my maroon paws and tail tip, remembering their colour, before looking back up and giggling. "What happened next? Did the nameless Fox live a long and happy life?"

Dad shrugged, before carrying on. "Oh, he woke up. But he saw Gaia weeping, and he asked her why? Then he learned of the curse…"

"The Curse!?"

"While he had slept, the king of the gods was distraught, and blamed the others for this mess. They began arguing, and piecing together what happened. They realised that they had been tricked and, not wishing to face punishment, the messenger God put all the blame on the nameless fox. Furious, the king of the Gods decreed that the nameless fox, and all his kind in turn, would be seen as nothing but the thieves they were. And so, in the camps towns and villages, even as the mammals celebrated the return of the sun, the Red Foxes were being kicked out, forced to live their lives on the road. Going from town to town, doing the work that was needed and trading, never outstaying their paltry welcome…"

"But, feeling sympathy and guilt, the messenger god secretly gave us one last gift. He let us see the guide he used travel, so that we may never lose our way…"

.

Everything was quiet, bar the cracking and hissing of the fire, as I stood up. It was a very nice story, a bit silly, but in some ways it made sense. It told us why Red Foxes like me were so special… and there being a curse seemed to make more sense than Prey mammals just hating us. But there were still many questions that needed answering.

"Why are we here?" I nervously asked, "and what's with the fire?"

This time Mum explained. "It was custom to always remind ourselves about the struggle the nameless Fox did, though many forgot the story. Back in Zootopia, we could only pass our fingers through the flame, but here…"

I gulped slightly as I followed her gaze, lining up directly with the fire. It had gone down somewhat, but it was still taller than Dad. He was now walking over with a long rake, breaking up the wood on the inside and levelling it out. After a few minutes, he had the hot flames confined to a pillar in the middle that he and Mum could have stood side by side in. As for the hot ashes, they were spread out in a ring around it, bar two paths that lead to the fire. Admiring his work, I couldn't help but see he was nervous.

"Let's do something to build our confidence first," he said, before jogging off towards the fire. Before my eyes, he was on the hot ashes, walking fast (but not running) one and then two laps around the fire before coming to a halt. Chuckling and panting, his tongue fully out, he turned to face me and winked.

I looked up at Mum and she nodded. "Be fast, but don't run!"

We jogged off together, on the hot ashes before we knew it. I knew enough to know that I just had to keep my speed up, and I did. The heat from the fire was intense, and as I made the first lap I could feel that my pads were getting warm. I could have quit after the first lap, but I didn't want too. I did the second lap, and got off the ashes just as my feet began to hurt. Standing away from the fire, I took some time to catch my breath. I was nervous, shaking, and wasn't sure what to do.

I burst into a fit of laughter, Mum and Dad quickly joining in.

.

"Ok Son, you enjoy that?" Dad shouted, with a grin on his face that made it look like he was having the time of his life.

"Yes, Paps!" I shouted back, giving a mock salute.

He stood up, saluting back. He grinned, he gave me _that look_ and then he winked. And before my eyes he turned, and ran full pelt into the fire.

"PAPS!" I screamed in horror, watching him leap and jump into the flames.

.

I was silent.

.

Mum was silent.

.

The flames erupted again, as Dad leapt out. Easily clearing both the flames and the ring of embers (even though he landed in the cleared strip) he ran on, before coming to a halt in front of us. Hands on his knees, panting with his tongue out, I wasted no time in stepping forward and slapping him across the face.

"DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

.

The wood was silent for a second, as both of us registered what had just happened. I was terrified, horrified of what I'd just done. What might happen…

"Hey Slick… Sorry if I worried you…"

I looked up, and saw Dad come forward to hug me. I hugged him back, and we smiled, almost missing Mum do the same leap.

My heart skipped a beat, but when she leapt back out I cheered along with Dad.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"… I want to…"

"Are you sure?"

I thought for a moment. "Yes!"

Dad stood up and walked over to the fire. Clearing an area with his rake to stand on, he was as close as he could get without burning himself. "You jump here! It should be easy."

I nodded, jogging up and down before racing forward at full speed. The fire getting ever large, so too the heat and light and sense of fear. So too the danger. So too the excitement. I passed Dad and I leapt, sailing through the air and the flash of burning heat, my eyes welded shut. In less than a second I was out, my feet landing on the floor. I opened my eyes and ran on forwards, every part of my body tingling.

It wasn't a choice. It was a certainty. I pivoted around and charged back at the fire. Leaping in, my eyes open this time, I sailed through the living yellows and oranges, twirling and twisting and reaching and dying like a thousand seasons worth of flowers, before I was out on the other side.

Running forward, my mind was abuzz with everything and nothing. Coming to a rest by Mum, I was shaking and tingling all over, before looking up at her and Dad with the biggest grin I've ever managed.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank the great WildBurr for giving me permission to use his Firekeeping ceremony in this Fic. Check out his Fic Fluent if you haven't already.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

.

"Your name…"

Judy scowled slightly, impatiently awaiting the Fox's answer. Currently sitting across from him in a ZPD interrogation room, her foot was beginning to tap furiously as her charge remained resolute in his indifferent demeanour. Sure, he'd scowled slightly at the Mammal he'd apparently assaulted, but when locked in this room with her he'd merely taken the time to gently file and polish his claws as methodically as he could. His worryingly sharp… threateningly sharp… deadly sharp claws. Slowly getting ever sharper, all more poised to murder and maim.

As for Nick, he was just watching on with a coy smile. Looking up and down at the Bunny in blue, a warm feeling fluttering through his heart, knowing full well that he was irritating the hell out of her. To say this day had been frustrating and had not gone to plan was a severe understatement. But sitting here, looking on at 'the establishment' getting its tail in a twist over him, was enough to make it all better. He had some sympathy though for the little bunny, so after letting out a very long and exaggerated yawn he chose to show her some mercy.

"Mr Nicholas Tuc Vulpes," he said with a grin and a wink. "Though, as I like you, you can address me as Sir."

"… Mr Vulpes, why did you assault that Goat."

His eyes widening with the statement in mock surprise, the Fox chose this time to put every acting skill he had or learned to good use. He was going to get out of this scot free, he was going to wind this bigoted Fox-Away carrying Bunny up to the Nth degree and it was going to be epic.

"Why do you assault Mammals?" Nick asked, as innocently as he could. Judy coughed slightly, looking up and scowling at the Fox across from her, before he continued. "Or, as you would class it were the situation reversed, why do you defend yourself from mammals?"

She scowled and leant forward. Nick couldn't help but give a faint chuckle as he spotted her nose twitching in faint irritation. "Mr Vulpes, I have it on good authority…"

"Well, the authority of a mammal known to be a public health risk."

"Health risk!?" Judy shouted out incredulously, while Nick responded by slowly shaking his head and tutting.

"You do know what he was doing as a living, huh?"

"Street trading and…" Judy began to say, only to be cut off.

"I see he didn't fill you in, did you?"

"That's irrele…"

"If this situation were reversed, though if it were I could likely have several limbs missing and still be viewed as the de-facto instigator…"

Judy banged her fist on the table to cut him off and, with her hackles raised, she pointed an accusing finger at Nick while shedding any last shreds of her previous good cop persona. "Stop playing the Pred card here, Nick!"

"Whoa! Did I give you permission to go down to a first name basis?"

"Now you listen…"

"No, you listen!" the Fox calmly replied, holding his paw up in defiance. "First things first, I do believe that I asked you to call me Sir. Isn't that right?"

"Well yes, but…"

"But nothing, thanks for agreeing officer."

Judy blinked for a few seconds, trying to regain her bearings, before latching on to the last thing Nick had said and making her disagreement very clear. "That's junior detective!"

"Junior detective Hopps." Nick replied, smiling as he did so. He paused for a second or two, thinking about whether asking the Bunny in front of him whether her title meant she got one of those gold sticker badges, before deciding against it. "You see? Little bit of common courteously. Manners maketh the mammal. Now, getting back to our Goat…"

"Can you stop deflecting this?" Judy bitterly mumbled out, her half-lidded eyes getting even more so as she heard the reply.

"No. It's rather important you see. Because if it were a Fox that were assaulted, you'd be very interested in what he did for a living, huh?"

"Well…"

"Thanks for agreeing," Nick said, nodding his head as he did so. "Now, our friendly Goat was a public health hazard…"

"It wasn't like he was infested in Fleas or something!"

"Second degree public health hazard…" Nick replied without so much as a hint of a pause, adding in an innocent shrug to boot, before pausing as Judy slammed her fists into the table and shouted out incredulously.

"What!?"

"You have second degree murder, he was a second-degree public health hazard!"

"What on earth are you talking about, there's…"

"Let's say per chance if he went back to your place," Nick began to say, his temperament becoming much calmer as he held his paws out and slowly brought them down, signalling that if Judy was patient enough she'd understand everything. "Now, you seem like some Podunk…"

"I'm from Bunnyborough, sir, and…"

"Bunnyborough it is! Now, when was the last mixie pandemic?"

Judy paused for a second, lost in thought before she realised what her charge was talking about. "Myxymetois?" she mumbled, before quietly carrying on. "What has this got to do with anything? I'm not going to put up with any more distra…"

"I heard it could leave only one bunny out of a hundred alive. Isn't that right?"

"Yes… but listen here!"

"But no-one remembers it, because the vaccinations keep it under control, yes?"

"… Well yes, but…"

"You got your shots?"

Judy blinked a few times, lost in thought before answering Nick's question. "Yes… every year, and…"

"If our Goat had his way, none of your family would."

"… Wait what, that's absurd. I mean…"

"He was peddling 'Vaccine replacement pills', saying that the government was putting all sorts of stuff in the jabs."

"Wait… "Judy replied before pausing, truly lost for words. "What?"

"Now imagine if he got, let's say ten percent of your family to go unvaccinated. Then the Mixie comes around again…"

"…" For once, Judy had nothing to say. She was silent. Nick reclined back in his chair as he saw the colour drain from the Bunny's face. From her twitching eyes, he could tell that she was filtering through her loved ones. Imagining which ones would be gullible enough to fall for that gelding of an ungulate. Knowing he'd won, he leant forward to claim his victory.

"As I said, 'Second Degree public Health Hazard.' If I remember the law, you can defend yourself from murder and public health hazards, e.g. those infested with fleas. You can defend yourself from second degree murder as well, so I assume that a second-degree public health hazard is the same. Is it not?"

Silence…

Glorious silence…

He could almost think he saw a whiff of blue smoke puff up from her ears. He'd won the battle, but the war was still going on. He just had to keep up the momentum.

.

"I agree," Judy slowly continued, "that that Goat was certainly a less than stellar citizen. IF you are telling the truth, which I consider highly unlikely..."

"Oh, I wonder why?" Nick snarked back.

"BUT! It is still no excuse to carry around and spray mammals with pepper spray…"

.

There was a pause.

.

Then Nick giggled.

.

Then he descended into a full on roaring laugh. He flailed about, one of his paws banging on the table several times before pointing it straight at his interrogator. All this time, he still kept on laughing, louder and louder, while his outstretched finger pointed directly at a cowering Judy. The Bunny was suddenly feeling very scared. All through her life, grown Predators had been nice and safe. Quiet, gentle, their violent instincts held back, to the extent that they hardly needed their collars. But here, this Fox was doing something that she'd assume would send him onto the floor in a fit of electric spasms.

But his collar stayed a stalwart green throughout.

Reaching down, she hovered her paw over the little bottle of Fox-Away she'd stashed on her utility belt and, as she did so, the Fox composed himself and gave off the most irritating, overly smug smirk she'd ever seen.

"What are you doing, J D Hopps?" Nick asked, shrugging as he did so. "Don't you know there's NO excuse to carry around and spray mammals with pepper spray…"

"This… This isn't…"

"AH, it's not pepper spray, is it? It's Fox-Rep? May I ask, how is that actually any different…"

"It's…"

"It's exactly the same if not worse. So very glad you could agree with me on that. I mean, a triple strength ultra-irritating bottle of filth that specifically says 'Foxes are irredeemably evil, hurt them' isn't the epitome of Predator and Prey coming together around a campfire and singing Kumbaya is it?"

"…" Judy tried to say, only to pause mid breath, well and truly speechless once more.

"And considering I have to wear one of these," Nick announced, grabbing and tugging his collar with his paws. Nestling them beneath the shocker, the anti-tamping unit protested and an orange light came on, to which Nick dutifully ceased his fiddling. "Surely there's no need to spray me with that, is there?"

"Well…" Judy began, "what if…"

"Ever heard of a feedback loop Fluff," Nick asked, "well, imagine spraying someone with an emotion detecting torture device around their neck with a bottle of literal hell spawn. Have you ever seen a sprayed Predator having a convulsion fit on the floor? I'll say one thing, it isn't nice…"

.

"Can't you…"

"Defend myself with my claws, teeth and natural irrepressible savage instincts? Instincts which you insist exist, despite not really being 'the final authority' on these matters?" Nick queried. Spotting an incredibly small nod from his captor, Nick smiled and carried on. "Well, firstly I really don't like the idea of getting myself covered in blood and gloop. Really…. Icky. Also, Mr Collar here will send me into a spasm on the floor long before I get to defend myself, or the ones I love, via traditional means. I mean, when I was being strangled by a Rhino as a Kit and experienced my first shock, my father was so horrified and distraught that he was given a good six second session on the ground. Sounds fun, doesn't it? Finally, talking about Rhino's, if a big mammal decides that he wants one less Pred on the street, I can be turned into a Vulpine pancake faster than you can say maple syrup please. Don't you think I have a right to defense…?"

.

The room was silent.

.

Judy slipped down her Fox away and looked up, twiddling her thumbs.

.

"Very well. I'll let you off with a written warning this time. BUT, I want to test your collar."

Nick's eyes raised at the statement, and he watch on silently as Judy brought out both a collar reader and, from a small safe, a collar remote. Raising the former up to his collar, she clicked it and silently nodded as she read what it said.

"This is going to hurt a bit, Mr Vulpes," she quietly warned, as she brought out the remote and pressed it.

**ZAP!**

Nick flinched down from the shock, electricity arcing from his collar and through his fur to reach the skin below. Groaning in pain through his clenched teeth, he shuddered and shook in his chair, riding out the agony until, finally, it was over.

"Sorry about that. Come with me, and we can get this over with."

"That… would be appreciated," Nick groaned as he stood up, his fingers still twitching from his ordeal. His first shock in over two decades. "I've got some errands I want to make." And so, two hours later, Nick left the ZPD with just a written warning and a promise, Junior Ranger Scouts honour mind you, to never ever do it again. As he left behind the building, and the irritating Bunny, he felt his collar again. The shock had been nasty, but he was glad to know that he was away from any collar remotes. It was just him, and a collar with a sabotaged heart rate monitor.


	11. Chapter 11

 

**Chapter 11.**

.

_Judy's Diary. 16.03.16._

SCREW THAT FOX:

.

SERIOUSLY! I MEAN SERIOUSLY! WHAT'S GETTING THAT FOX'S GOAT!

.

Well, I mean I know what's getting his goat, I even looked up said ungulates 'employment' and found out that, surprisingly enough, Mr Vulpes was telling the truth. This Goat had a proven track record of selling all sorts of homeopathic cures and stuff, something he's been brought in for multiple times, although he's never been prosecuted for it given the lack of concrete laws against that sort of thing (a state of affairs which, for the record, I'm against (but we have to be careful now)).

But still, you don't just spray a mammal because he's being an absolute gelding, do you? It's not as if he's going around spreading diseases like a typhoid Mare. However what really annoys me about Mr Vulpes is how he was putting me on the spot! Using the fact that us Bunnies are very caring familial mammals against me (case in point, even I had to ship in more stuffed Bunny's to help me get to sleep (although, that may be due to the Bucky and Pronk effect more than anything else (and thank the lord for ear-plugs, both custom made and improvised. I think I'd be dead on my feet otherwise))).

Right, where was I?

Anyhow, let's go through his interview and pick things apart (I have the transcripts with me here):

.

 _\- - 'Mr Nicholas Tuc Vulpes_ ':

Now, this name seemed very odd at first. It rang too many bells, so I've looked into it and I think I've found out why. The first Fox family to vanish, as part of what may have been the knights of the muzzle case, had a son by the name of Nicholas Piberius Wilde who would be about the same age as Mr Vulpes. Even stranger, a later Red Fox family to leave had the surname Vulpes (although this is a very common fox surname, right up there with Todd or Reynard). I still have no idea where the 'Tuc' came in, it's almost like it's there to confuse me, or some strange reference to something like Paw wars or Sheep-Trek. Anyway, I looked our Fox up and oddly enough we don't seem to have any records on him. I even asked the tax department and it seems like he's totally off grid, so unless I find out he's making $200 a day or something I can't pull him in for anything. His collar and other documents were evidence enough that he was who he said he was and we can't hold him on the few issues we found.

_\- - 'Why do you assault Mammals or, as you would class it were the situation reversed, why do you defend yourself from mammals'_

Now, I'm really annoyed that I fell for that. The classic diversion tactic, although I did tell him off for using the Pred card. I mean seriously, it's not my fault that Preds are inherently more aggressive and thus us Prey need to defend ourselves. It isn't 'speciesism', it's statistics and probability and biology. Mainly biology… And he DID assault that Goat at the end of the day, and wasn't threatened with violence beforehand. I mean, it's different if a Fox or any other pred was doing what the victim was doing, going around and insulting or harassing me, because they could go violent and tear me up at any moment (and that's just a fact!). But a Goat? What on earth is he going to do? He has no weapons? He's got flat teeth and flat hooves, and us prey mammals are far less likely to boil over at the slightest infraction. And that poor goat… when he hit the floor, he broke off one of his huge horns. Now it's all blunt and wobbly, and he seemed very upset that he couldn't got butting with his friends on Friday nights. He's still a gelding, given what he does, but I can't help but feel some sympathy. … maybe I have a secret thing for bad boys? Or maybe not… It's not like a sly guy or some Popsicle hustler will have me going head over heels, is it?

_\- - No. It's rather important you see. Because if it were a Fox that were assaulted, you'd be very interested in what he did for a living, huh?_

Well DUH. We have to stay vigilant in these times, don't we? We have two ~~crises~~   ~~criseses~~   ~~crisises~~   **CRISES ** on our hands in the ZPD, the knights of the muzzle case and the savage outbreaks. Added to that, all the regular stuff that a police force has to do, and it makes sense to scan any shifty Foxes that were assaulted to see if they were asking for it. Cutting down the paperwork and irrelevant cases to focus more on the important matters. Given what those matters are, those Foxes should be thanking us!

_\- - 'Second degree public health hazard'_

OK, this is NOT a thing. The closest you can get is public endangerment, with one Vet sent to jail for a year or so for releasing a homeless guy with distemper a dozen or so years back. But what this Goat was doing is, by and large, protected under free speech laws (for better or for worse).

_\- - 'Podunk'_

Just… Just… UGH!

_\- - 'Bunnyborough it is! Now, when was the last Mixie pandemic?'_

OK, I get it. Mr Vulpes does not like anti-vaxxers and he made a salient point. I know for sure that many members of my family could be swayed by Mr Goat, leaving them completely undefended the next time that viral holocaust returns… But I think he was using as much of this stage of the interview as possible to really get under my skin, distracting me and putting him in charge. Annoyingly it worked and I was badly thrown off my game. I REALLY need to improve my interview technique for the future. If he wasn't so infuriating, maybe Mr Vulpes could be a police interrogator/ interrogator trainer. Maybe he is… Sweet cheese and crackers, if he is and I get him, I think I may be the first person to die from acute smugness exposure… He'd probably try and make a 'cute' pun based on that just to REALLY annoy me too…

_\- - 'HA-HA-HA'_

Evidently this answers the age long question, 'what does the Fox say?' Damn, he must truly be a great actor. He seemed so worked up and excited in that laugh. I can't help but think that something like that, if it was sincere, would have had him zapped out and smoking. Yeh… seems a bit rotten thinking about it. But it's all for the greater good. THE GREATER GOOD. … stop that Judy! (wrist slap). Anyway, raised my suspicion enough to test his collar, which I personally think he had coming, the smug git.

\- - ' _Fox-Rep'_

Now that wasn't fair, he caught me completely unaware. Now, there are many, many reasons for carrying Fox-Rep which are rooted in equality, safety, diversity, progressiveness, tolerance, democracy, feminism and sustainability (all things that the modern mammals in this world should aim to be paradigms of) and not blatant speciesism. Firstly… I'll get back to that later…

_\- - 'And considering I have to wear one of these'_

Ah, the old Pred battle cry. Seriously, it can't be that bad? I mean I could wear one (not that I need to, or have the time to) and be fine. I'm a calm, collected, mature, thoughtful, peaceful Prey mammal who doesn't rush into things without a plan, use excessive violence to solve her problems or get mad/hold grudges over little things. Regardless, if those things were anywhere as near as bad as some preds claim, then there'd be no way on earth that we'd make them wear them. We're not heartless or cruel or sticking our fingers in our ears going 'LA-LA-LA' while some great injustice is going on. I mean seriously, WE'RE NOT THE BAD GUYS!

_\- - 'Ever heard of a feedback loop Fluff'_

That's just a myth (as I already explained above), or something that happens to Preds who _really_ ask for it. Typical Fox slipperiness, sneakiness and connivingness. Making ME feel sympathy for the bad guys.

_\- - 'I've got some errands I want to make.'_

Errands I'll be following you on, Slick Nick. I have the afternoon off, and I'm certain you're up to something. Now let's see what we can dig up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

.

_Judy's_ _**Journal** _ _. 17.03.16._

_._

Ugh. Good morning Zootopia…

.

Well, I've started off today by remembering that I'm writing a JOURNAL. NOT A DIARY, A JOURNAL!

Now that's out of the way, let's get on with chronicling the rest of my miserable existence.

.

After leaving the ZPD in some casual wear (with several other bits of clothing in a backpack, so I could change my outfit on the fly and thus be extra super sneaky), I followed Mr Vulpes around the city on foot. Now, I was initially excited as this gave me a good chance to put much of my training to use. Now, I know for a fact that mammals like Foxes have very well developed senses of smell, and as per regulations I used a special can of musk mask so that he wouldn't recognise that I was following him. I also made sure to look up the city-wide wind movements in order to avoid placing myself upwind from him. I'm not going to lie, I was really excited to try these things out in the field for the first time (practices with sniffer boars and Pred volunteers really don't cut it). Now, unfortunately reality and practice are two separate things and in a lot of cases I had no choice but to follow him with the wind at my back. Thankfully, I have my super hearing and was able to keep a listen out for any signs that he seemed to be getting suspicious. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be anything (something he seemed to confirm later).

Now, I followed him past several cafes and restaurants. The first few were very upmarket ones, but he turned away after a short while, carrying on. I'm guessing he didn't like the menu. Which is odd given the fact that he ended up at, of all places, a dingy backstreet place.

In Tundra town…

Now, I'd just started to lose my winter coat and, thinking about others and being considerate for the cleaners in this world, I took the opportunity a week ago to shave off my excess fur. Have done every year without failure. Sadly, this had some catastrophic implications when I had to stake out this Fox, in the open and right next to one of the cities cooling units… during a scheduled fortnightly blizzard.

I genuinely feared that I would become a Hoppsicle…

.

And now, with that joke, it seems like I've become my dad instead.

.

Next, after REALLY taking his time, he upped sticks and once more I tracked him. Down through the main square, onto the subway, across to Sahara square and to this health spa place. Naturally, I sneaked in a few minutes after and talked to the receptionist.

Who, it turned out, was naked! (and I think a bit stoned as well).

Fortunately, it wasn't as if there was anyone in there who I had to meet to further the case (imagine how embarrassing that would be), while Mr Yax stated that he couldn't give me any information about Mr Nicholas Tuc Vulpes given that it was his first time here, he was bounded by customer protection laws (Zootopia customer confidentiality act, 1952, part B subsection 3.7 (note, double check if he's correct on that)) and that he didn't have a good enough memory to remember anything anyway.

He did say that there was a Yoga instructor who'd remember every single detail about him, seeing as she was an Elephant.

Not wanting to enter this place (and see lots and lots of naked, and very Lewd, animals) I politely declined, before just waiting outside.

Now, you know how they cool Tundratown by moving the heat to Sahara square?

Remember that scheduled blizzard?

Suffice to say, this is one of those days where I hate the fact the Bunnies like me have all our sweat glands in our mouth! I still think I can taste all the salt today…

Thankfully, I was able to wave my ears around like a maniac to help cool them, but why couldn't evolution just put our sweat glands there instead? It's not as if sweating makes an irritating sound or something!

Mr Vulpes did reappear a short while later, only 30 mins or so (as if he went in there to wait for something, only for that thing to not turn up (in fact, I think he just went in there to try and taunt/loose me!)) and then headed off to the rainforest district.

Now, one thing I forgot to pack in my case was an umbrella. This was something that he didn't forget, in fact having what looked to be the biggest, most luxurious make available (It had a drop down plastic rain shield that reached his ankles and everything)! And so, in the middle of the late afternoon downpour, he just sat out in the middle of a park all dry.

While I got soaked…

Anyway, he finally left and while my initial fears of him turning my home town against me in some new and original way did prove unfounded, he certainly did something that I didn't expect. He went to (of all places) a record shop.

Who still buys records?

Or is this Fox a hipster…

Must be, I bet he's doing everything in his power to make me hate him.

.

So, I go into this shop and see him buying a record from the manager (it looked like it had a white cover with a black star on it). They were both looking a little sad and saying 'it's a terrible shame' or things to that effect. So, settling in the odd crowds, I watched on as they listened to it for a bit, before Mr Vulpes said thank you and how it would be a great present for his Mum.

I was getting very bored by this point, just wandering around this shop and pretending to be interested in what they had to sell, rifling through their selection and all (something quite tricky, given the fact that each LP is the size of a Bunny Hula-hoop (I'll have to ask my Grandpa's about how they listened to music back then)), all while making ad-libbed comments about all the music the manager had put on for him and Mr Vulpes to listen too (thinking back, I think he knew I was there at this point, with the store owner literally getting out a brandy or something for him and Mr Vulpes to share). Anyway, my tactic seemed to be working and averting suspicion through all four albums (including what I think was some older Pig Floyd stuff, as well as a smattering of Rat Pack) and five singles of varying quality that they listened to, until a recording of Hallelujah of all things came on. Now, this is a cover I'd never heard before. In my view, whichever dusty old fart did that song was doing old Jeff Buck-Lee's masterpiece a great disservice.

In hindsight, I didn't have to say that quite so out loud.

In double hindsight, the innumerable death gaze's I was getting from literally everyone in the store seems to make me think that I committed some kind of minor Faux-Paus.

Whatever it was, Mr Vulpes chose this time to be my 'knight in shining armour' (HIS words, not mine). He told everyone that I was just a 'Dumb Bunny' and then led me out.

.

I'm still not sure what exactly it was that I did, and he didn't say (apart from commenting that I was, and I quote, 'a musical philistine with no taste or cultural appreciation'). Anyway, I confronted him and demanded to know what he was doing in there and why he was taking so long. He replied, explaining that he just wanted to listen to great music, given that in his youth he didn't have all sorts of modern distractions like TV and such, so he'd gained an appreciation to just phasing out and listening to whole albums and stuff, warts and all. When I asked about how the music he was listening to was 'great', especially when compared to something that truly is great (e.g. try everything), he replied by saying that great songs (or great anything's for that matter) rhyme with life itself. There was some more mumbo-jumbo about how great songs or stories can rhyme/ be applied to other great stories and stuff and really fit/ be about them even when completely disconnected because of the underlying themes... yadda yadda yadda…

By this point I was getting rather impatient (my foot still aches a bit from how many times it thumped against the floor) and I asked him about whether he was some annoying hipster poet or something (he made an unfunny deadpan joke about having a son called Oscar (seriously, how is that even possibly funny?)) and what he actually did for a living/ life. He just shrugged and said that he did clothing repair for mammals and, if I'd like, he'd mend my skirt (which I caught and tore on the way out of the store). Already rather pissed off, I threw it at him and ran back home.

Where I proceeded to nibble through an entire sack of raw carrots and watched four entire seasons of Two Broke Does back to back…

Looking back, that wasn't my proudest moment. And so, I spent the evening as an emotionally unstable wreck as Bucky and Pronk argued over their chive flavoured mayo dip…

FOR THE TENTH TIME THIS WEEK!

GOD ABOVE! UGH! I'm going to have to sneak in some of those 'taming pills' that some hyper aggressive Preds take with their food. Heck, I've already phoned up Gideon, asking if he can supply some pies laced with them to my ungulate pals next door in the guise of some kind of peace deal. Wouldn't mind seeing him again, the chubby ol' todd. See how his pie business is doing. Making sure he isn't reverting back to his loud-mouthed bullying ways… I think he's a good Fox though and unlikely to have gone back, although _just_ in case I'll keep the standard safe, civilised distance between us.

Always pays to be safe...

Anyway, he seemed happy to hear me on the phone, but he sort of refused my request, saying things about 'professional misconduct'; the 'destruction of them little bits of reputation I've been able to scrape together here and there what with my past and species and such' and, my personal favourite, 'Preds seen buying them pills are considered not good, and suffering from unchecked rage and aggression…'

So, that plan wasn't as successful as I hoped. But he also said that he'd give B&P (has anyone ever told them that their initials sound like the name of a hardware retailer, or is it just me?) a cherry and almond pie which he says, and I quote, 'makes you more tired than old Dan's local wheel emporium.' I'll buy B and P one to see if had any effect. You never know, maybe they'll get hooked and become nice and quiet.

Or, given the fact that Almonds contain trace levels of cyanide, they'll eat so much they pop their clogs.

Both solutions are a means to a glorious, peaceful end…

.

Judy Hopps. Signing off.

.

ADENDUM: DAMN THAT FRICKIN FOX! OUT THERE, BY MY DOOR, WERE MY CLOTHES FROM YESTERDAY!

How dare he, how dare he have the cheek to mend my clothes and deliver them back to me! To top it off, he put down a note saying 'No Fee, Carrots!' (CARROTS!), along with a P.S. saying that he was upset that he couldn't trick me into entering that naturalist club (to see his 'critically acclaimed' naturally physique), though he was impressed by my perseverance in Tundra Town and the Rainforest district (while telling me to keep a look out for any mushrooms growing in my ears). The final touch is completely lost on me however, seeing as he'd laid a bunch of Digitalis on top of it all as some sort of symbol or something. Not that I know what it means and what not, but DAMN! I'M GONNA GET THAT CHEEKY FOX ONE DAY, AND PUT HIM BACK IN HIS PLACE!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

.

It had been three days since Nick's last meeting with the ZPD's Bunny cop.

In the intervening time, he'd read up on her. Her exploits. Her victories. Her failings. The little Rabbit from the Burrows who wished to be a big city cop, who had defeated the seemingly impossible odds set up against her, albeit with heavy sponsorship by a Mayor looking out for the Lagomorph vote.

Nick had no intention of seeing her again and too much business to dole out to have time to care about her. In the meantime things had been on the up, starting with an egg trading deal which had finally been signed. Although they were stereotyped as being so scared of his kind that they'd have a heart attack upon seeing him, the chickens Nick had been able to deal with had proved far more conductive to business than the vultures (even saying that, were he willing to emigrate, they'd pay for his visa seeing as he'd make a stellar manager for their apartment complex). Thus, with a foreign trade deal set up for his people, Nick chose to move his focus back onto his main mission. As Tattletail had said, Nick or any other Pred couldn't come close to what they were after. As a result, once more a Fox carrying the middle name Piberius had to deal with a Prey mammal, knowing full well that he could be giving himself up in a trap.

Unlike his father, who'd tried to hang out in the underground circles before finally finding a contact (who turned out to be a double agent), Nick had set about the task at paw by conducting research. Lots and lots of research. With his allies, he'd looked up the employees of the institute, scanning through them and then looking up on their furbook feeds. Overall, from the hundreds of Prey mammals he'd profiled, a dirty dozen had been shortlisted. Most were card carrying members of collardarity, their profiles more often than not showing their pictures at Gazelle's organised protests. But, at the same time, Nick knew that these were all mammals with good lives back in Zootopia. He needed some mammals that would support him AND had some dirt on themselves. Mammals who'd be willing to up-sticks and move with them, to a Predator filled community which (in most cases) would offer them a lower quality of life.

Or so he thought. Because as Nick looked on, he'd spotted that three of the 'dirty dozen' were in fact mammals who had something far more potent and valuable for Nick than a bad past (although they also exhibited some tell-tale signs of some major, and very perilous, financial ill management as well). They understood what it was like to be hated, marginalised and in some cases reviled and would likely see a new life across the seas as a big step up. Hence, Nick had set up an initial meeting to broker the subject, and was waiting now at the same Café where he'd met Tattletail, eagerly waiting to see what they thought.

.

"Mr Vulpes…"

Nick smiled and raised his eyebrows, turning to face the three mammals standing over him. With a smile, he waved them down to the waiting chairs and looked on at their long and unfortunate faces. They were equids, almost identical to one another, and were very horse-like albeit slightly smaller than one would expect. However, anyone who'd laid an eye on a horse could tell that these were most certainly of a different race. Different proportions, sizes, colourations and all sorts of other small but noticeable oddities. But, above their muddy grey and brown coats and strange shapes, the thing that truly set them out as strangers among their kind (or, as some would call them, freaks) was their ears. Far too long, thin and narrow for a horse. No, these were the ears of a Donkey or Ass, because across from Nick sat three mules.

"Mr Jack, Mr Jack and… Mr Jack," Nick cordially announced, greeting the three hybrids. "So, nice to meet you."

One of them snorted, before speaking. "For simplicities sake, call me Stanley," he said, before pointing his hoof at one of his brothers. "The sugar lump head over to my right is my brother Ramsey..."

"And before my brother calls me an Ass or something, I'm Neville" piped in the third.

Carefully looking over his shoulders, Nick checked for any watchers or eavesdroppers before leaning towards the three, his breath hushed as he spoke. "You uh, seen the proposition."

Stanley smiled and slipped his hoof into his bag, before retrieving a small set of files and sending them sliding back to Nick. Catching them with his paws, the Fox quickly looked inside, nodding as he confirmed that the pictures of a thriving (mostly) Predator community were all in there. Of course, the most important ones, showing a particular Water Vole spending time seeing the sights (an impromptu holiday if Nick remembered, allowing the heat on him after a less than stellar heist to dissipate somewhat) were the first to be examined, and Nick was pleased to see that it was all there.

"So, your crazy story is true…" a different Mule, Ramsay this time, said. He was a bit shorter and podgier than the others, and had brought up a vegie sausage to snack on. Holding it upright in his hooves, he jiggled it out a bit in a rather creepy and unsettling fashion before taking a large bite of the end.

"Absolutely, one-hundred precent" Nick replied as he put his folder back in his briefcase, before looking up nervously to see what they thought.

"Well," Stanley said, shrugging as he did so, "what is it to us?"

"You've read what I want to do? You understand what it entails?" Nick asked, flicking his wrist as he did so. Stanley's ears flicked about, evidence enough that he was thinking, weighing up everything, before he spoke up.

"That I have, and I understand it. And I know what your payment will be."

"Do you?" Nick asked, "I might have forgotten, please remind me."

Letting out a loud equine snort, Stanley scowled before talking. "A new fresh start. A blank slate. No more hate, no more insults, no longer feeling like a second class…"

Stanley paused for a second as he spotted Nick conspicuously meddling with his collar, before carrying on. "…One and a half class citizens. Living among Predators, who have always been infinitely more understanding of what it's like to carry the burden of your existence as an anchor around your neck than any Prey. Instead of us being lackey's who are underappreciated and insulted, we can be well-respected pillars of your community."

"I may have just remembered them," Nick cordially amended, before smiling and winking at the three onlooking mammals. "I cannot guarantee that you won't hear any insults, but I'll do everything in my power to stamp any hatred out before it has a chance to take root. As for being Prey mammals… Mr Tattletail got treated very well. As long as you're okay being considered 'Good Prey', then I think you'll be fine."

Nick's ears were suddenly perked up by a loud snorting, which he quickly realised was coming from Ramsay. The middle child of the three mules had an odd grin on his face, before he leant down and patted Nick, in a rather hard and demeaning manner, on his head. The Fox looked up, unable to hide his displeasure behind his usual mask, and scowled at the mule who by this point had leant back and was shrugging dismissively, while also wearing a small smile on his face throughout. "Do you know how many times I've been called a freak? A mutant? An 'error of evolution' or sick love… An invalid…"

"Do you know how many times I've been called a Chomper? A damn Pred? Having my species name spat out of me like it was a piece of filth?"

Both Nick and Ramsay smiled in recognition of their shared experiences, before the Equid continued.

"Did you get initially turned down for student loans because, and I quote, their system only recognised true 'Species' and I, being unable to reproduce and thus not a member of any species, did not classify as such. After a rather tense period, they fixed it, but from what I could gather it was somewhat of a belated activity."

"Well," Nick began, taking his time as he extended a claw and picked out some gunk stuck between his teeth. "My father did get flat out denied for a business loan because he was a Fox. Keep in mind, he'd all but agreed to it on the phone, with the manager just having him coming in to sign the last formalities… Later that day, after I had been hauled out kicking and screaming and frying by a blockheaded Rhino, I had Fox-Rep pulled on me by a concerned Bunny father. I was Five!"

Ramsey chuckled slightly, before shrugging. "I joined a cross country club at my school, and they promptly organised a 'welcome party' for me. They held me down and attached a pair of blinkers to me…"

"Blinkers?"

"Trust me," Neville, the third and youngest mule, interrupted. "It's a BIG insult…"

Nick shrugged, although his eyes betrayed some of the sympathy he had beneath. "I'll take your word on that."

"The point is," Stanley began in a serious, commanding tone that showed he was cutting this short. "I'm eager for a new start, for respect. Our qualifications and experience will make us invaluable to you, and our output… particularly Ramsey's, will be invaluable in getting YOU what you want."

"… What he said," Ramsey piped in, as all eyes turned to Neville. The final mule, however, was looking far more sceptical of the situation and was looking down, concentrating intently as he rooted through his bag. Finding what he was looking for, he stood back up with the day's newspaper in his hooves.

"I hold in my hand a piece of paper," he began, before slamming it hard down onto the table. "Which I think shows that we aren't having any peace in our time." With a thud, the paper landed and opened onto a front-page headline, loudly commenting on an attack by a savage hyena. There was a pregnant pause, before he continued. "Ramsey, Stanley, my brothers… I don't think I could go home at night in his predator town and get a nice quiet sleep without an explanation, could you?"

The table was silent, until Nick stood up. "I understand your worry," he began, slowly taking the paper and scanning through it. The savage outbreaks, which had started just over a year ago, hadn't escaped his notice and had caused much concern. But they also send a tingle of suspicion throughout each and every fibre of his being. "But we have thousands of uncollared Preds living and working, without any effect like this…"

"And with good reason," Ramsay announced, as all heads turned to face him. "The fact that, after so many years, this has all turned up now… Either some new factor HAD to have come in, or it's just a big show being put on by the powers that be. It doesn't look like a disease, or a pollutant. It's too random, too isolated. I've cut and analysed it so many times and the only pattern I could find was the lack of a pattern. I suspect that this is either deliberate, or more likely a whole bunch of lies."

"Ramsey!" Neville shouted out, only for Stanley to interrupt him.

"No… I know it's crazy. Absolutely insane. Me agreeing with him that is, but as for this savage outbreak a deliberate, intelligent factor IS the only explanation that holds up to account. Or of course, it doesn't exist and is a great big media lie. None of our friends have seen a savage Pred, have we?"

"We don't have any friends," the Neville rebutted, causing his eldest brother to scowl and huff as he conceded that point, before the younger mule carried on. "And considering that your job for the last however many years has involve typing letters on a computer screen into a keyboard, I'm not one to trust your critical thinking skills. Besides, the whole 'I've never seen it so it doesn't exist' argument doesn't hold water. I mean, it's like that whole joke conspiracy that the city of Bellweatherfeld is made up!"

"To quote a famous detective," Nick announced loudly, catching the three siblings attention. "Once you remove the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. No collarless Pred has gone savage, no Pred ever went savage until a sudden event less than two years ago. It isn't an epidemic, it isn't isolated in certain places… I don't know what it is, in fact I'm nintety-nine percent certain that this is all being faked or something, but if anything, I'm willing to bet you're safer staying with us than you are staying here."

Ramsey and Stanley nodded, before turning to face Neville. Looking at his two brothers, he paused a bit to consider it, before shrugging and saying, "What the hell?" In truth, even though he'd been dead against the idea, he'd follow his two brothers to the grave. In the hours that followed, as food came and empty plates went; as fellow patrons enjoyed themselves or threw the odd, disapproving gaze at them, the four mammals discussed and ironed out their plans. Their contact details. When to meet up next and what to expect. Finally, as the bill was paid, they stood up, two travelling off in one direction and two in another.

.

"So, Ramsey, you'll be our inside man?"

"That I'll be," the Mule replied as he and Nick walked along the sidewalk, the meeting long since over and the two other co-conspirators long gone. Ramsey paused a bit to think, before talking on. "I used to resent my parents… you know that? I used to resent my Dad, that proud old Jack, for falling in love with my Mum and having not one but three children. Three children born to live their lives as outcasts. How can a city call itself 'Zootopia' if children blame their parents for bringing them in to it…"

"Simple," Nick replied, "It lies…"

"I'm going to have to agree with you there," Ramsey muttered, before sighing sadly. "I will not lie, I'm scared at the moment, though you were likely once far more scared given what you've been doing and have done."

"That I was," Nick said, nodding as he did so. "There was a time not too long ago when I was more terrified than you could imagine. But if I could get through all of that, so can you. Trust me on this, OK."

"That I will…"

The two continued in silent thought, with Ramsey's question setting Nick in particular on a long train of thoughts and memories. Back to a boat, a long time ago, when his Dad had been comforting him as they ventured into the unknown. The fear he'd felt then hadn't been severe, merely hanging like a shadow in the back of his mind. Looking back in hindsight, he knew now that on that occasion, he'd had no reason to be scared at all then, and that the lingering fear of the unknown he'd felt was as misplaced as it could possibly be. Especially given the true fear he'd felt later on in his life. A thousand times worse, it had reared its ugly head just four months ago and still lingered on in his bones. It was that fear that was making him do this now, pushing him on and on rather than pulling him back. The Fox was going to raise the issue, to comfort his new brother in arms and explain to true reasons of his actions, but by that point they'd reached the latter's workplace.

Their target.

Ramsey, waving Nick off, trotted up the granite steps leaving the Fox outside, staring up at the mighty building he was planning to break into. Unable to help himself, Nick let out a long whistle in appreciation before turning and strolling away, imagining what he could look like raiding it. Maybe going away in a nurse's uniform, with some clown make-up on his face. Potentially pressing a button over and over, until the gratuitous explosion blasted out behind him. Nick couldn't help but chuckle as he walked away, leaving the mighty Zootopia central hospital behind him.

.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

.

_Judy's Journal. 20.03.16._

.

Knights of the muzzle case. Been pretty busy so far, getting back onto my game after getting over the Fox, so here are my notes from the last few days:

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 **17th.** The Day started off Okay, with the first thorough briefing about the Knights of the muzzle case, along with all reports and other items. One thing that did surprise me was that attention to the vanishings only began to truly occur at the turn of the millennium, close to a decade after the first linked cases. Digging further, Oates explained that the first they knew about the missing Preds was when the bailiffs were called to repossess their homes (given backdates in taxes and such). In some cases, this was between three and nine months after said Preds had vanished.

I'm not going to lie, I was a bit shocked about that. Oates explained that part of the problem was that no Preds raised the alarm and that, in the first cases, they all came from the Pred heavy neighbourhood of Happytown which was in serious decline after the fishing quotas were reigned in (hence, their empty buildings could be explained via the logic that they'd moved to a different part of town). I then asked about why the children weren't classified as truants and Oates, rather wearily, admitted that many schools were 'very apathetic' about Preds… Speciesism raising its ugly head again… ugh. Times like this that make me ashamed to be a Prey mammal, even though I have no reason to feel guilty/ bad about the Pred situation.

Anyway, once we got the less than stellar past out of the way, I was able to dive in to the statistics and look for any patterns. The most obvious thing is that it's always the same, or a similar, number of Preds that vanish in every 'event'. Something in the range of 150-250. Maybe they have some kind of body destroyer and that's its body melting capacity… although unless it's something very weird I can't think of why it isn't trickle fed. It's almost like it has to recharge, or is dependent on some other factor. I chose this as my next line of enquiry.

So, that afternoon I looked over all the dates, (or range of potential dates for the earlier cases). Most vanishings seem to occur over a day or too, however the Orphan abductions seem to take place up to two weeks beforehand (not that I know why). The sad thing is that, after four or five hours of scanning, I couldn't find any concrete pattern in the vanishings and not for want of trying. At first I looked up school holidays, or traditional species holidays, in case these events were linked to one or several species events (almost committed as some evil tribute or something). But after scanning through the entire compiled list, Aardvark to Zebra, I found nothing.

Oates rolled his eyes at that. He gave me some praise (heavens above, being appreciated RULES!) for my new idea, but advised me to just put it on the list of ruled out patterns.

They have a really big list…

I mean really big.

A giraffe could hold it from the top as high as he could reach and most of it would by lying in a big pile on the floor…

.

So, I ended that day by talking at length about the subject with Oates over some takeout salad and hay. Turns out that he's half given up with it, after working on it for half a decade. I asked him about how he slept at night, knowing about all those innocent Preds who'd vanished, and he replied that he dreamed about them all living off on a faraway island, nice and happy without collars.

I may have insulted him there… A lot. Using four letter words that would probably make Mum faint. Including one particular one beginning with C.

Not cute.

The other one…

Oddly enough, he took things rather well, saying that many of the mammals he got on the muzzle case did the same when he explained his worldview, although they soon came to agree with him after a short while. I pressed that point and he explained that the Predator community seemed so insular, so determined to not give up any information and so distrustful of the authorities, that he decided that they might as well get what was coming for them (given that they were no help in protecting themselves).

Well, as I once said to a Pred, I don't know when to quit. I'm going to crack this case if it's the last thing I do. At that point, I had another brilliant flash of inspiration, coming to me from Oates 'island dream'. Checking the list, my idea hadn't been looked at, so I pursued it…

Sadly, the disappearances aren't tide related.

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 **18th**. More time in the office. Chasing new leads, looking at new interviews and generally reinforcing what I already know and have learnt. Eyewitnesses all state that 'vanished Preds' seemingly go by their own violation, packing up things of sentimental value (or just general value) and carrying them off with them. I'm assuming that the Preds are being coerced by something, maybe via people with collar remotes. I requested information about those devices, on both how many had been stolen in the past or how easy they would be to recreate. One of the Techs informed me that, while a device would be very hard to counterfeit, the fact that they specify the severity of the shock (different grades of collar remote are used at different levels of the jail system) would mean a counterfeit or stolen remote could be used to turn every collar out there into what was effectively a kill collar… Even I would take a slim chance of survival rather than a death like that…

But that leads onto another question, if they did have a kill collar key, then why don't they just give it to a rat member and have him or her break into Preds homes every night, frying two hundred before daybreak… Or if they were ambitious, two hundred before midnight. I mean, given that we make about thirty thousand collars a year, even a tenfold increase in production would mean six years until all collars could be replaced with safe tamperproof versions (excluding, of course, the time taken to develop such a device). Given that the knights of the muzzle vanished, at most, twenty thousand Preds over their history then such an attack scheme, going at two hundred Preds a night, could do over triple that in a year.

It just makes no sense if the Knights of the muzzle were trying to mass murder preds, so what are the alternatives?

The most logical is that they are Mammal traffickers, potentially engaged in slavery. Either these mammals are being stowed down in some secret part of Zootopia, bussed out to work on plantations far out in the country or even taken overseas, most likely to the cold-blooded parts of the world. But again, this is odd. Most mammal traffic is either based on the… shall we say lewd part of the industry, or on taking small rodents and forcing them to 'mine' on the internet (usually for gold in world of porkcraft of all things). Given the low food costs, the potential benefits, and the easiness in ensuring your anonymity and your slaves captivity, any other live mammal trading is just not viable.

As for dead mammal trading for things like fur, innovations like live cut pelts (I'm not going to lie, the way those special clippers glue the bases of hairs together as they're cut off at a barbers is both super cool and, given the warmth of the glue, super relaxing) along with synthetic materials make that barbaric practice pointless. As for meat? Why would our Preds eat other preds, it would be far easier and more logical to go after prey (and I don't think any civilised Pred would eat one of their own kind). There's the vulture population of Avaria who still eat dead mammals, but from what I gather they prefer those which have decomposed to an extent (and regardless, the cadaver export industry is the most closely guarded and regulated there is). So, apart from some ancient cults that think tiger bones have healing properties, there is literally no explanation for this.

Oates took this time to 'reassure me', saying that this was normal for the knights of the muzzle case. That the whole thing was so illogical and impenetrable, that you might as well 'take it easy' rather than burn yourself out… Well, screw that (probably) speciesist Nag, as I said before, I don't know when to quit.

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 **19th**. Following my hypothesis from the previous day, I decided to look at the hall of records and the mayor's office to get any hints I could. In particular, I'm looking for evidence of materials transported into and out of the nocturnal district (along with any potential caves that could be converted into secret sweatshops). Now, I've only glanced the nocturnal district from subway train windows (given that several underground lines also act as 'ceiling lines' as well.) But what I do know is that it's absolute chaos, a shimmering mish-mash of hundreds of buildings that pop up here and there, are built into the supporting columns (or, in certain cases, are the supporting columns) or literally hang from the roof. Go down there when it's night on the surface, and it's almost as bright as daytime is outside given all the crazy neon lights and stuff (though they have to turn off during surface day-time, which is night time down there). Most of the population is bats, along with moles and stuff. But about half the city's Foxes live down there as well (along with a whole selection of pretty much every mammal species there is, all working on the night shifts). Of course, given the constant need to replenish air, non-electric vehicles are banned down there, period. That means most freight has to be transferred at elevator stations and should be easy to track.

Mayor Swinton was all too happy to help, although her assistant mayor seemed to think that the records would be… tasty. Anyhow, I cross referenced both goods and passenger records (both via the freight lifts, passenger stairs and transit stations).

No correlation.

Again…

So, then I enquired about any other caverns. The main nocturnal district is six big caves knocked into one, while a seventh separate one is home to the city's power plants. One of the mayoral aids was able to inform me about four other caves, which were to be used to store reactor waste. However, after the new generation of plants eliminated the need for millennia long storage, the one currently being used was permanently sealed off while a second is used regularly for material stabling. The two others are empty, but still monitored. When raising the idea of the vitrified caving being used for criminal activity, several mammals agreed that it was a possibility and that they would investigate (likely via setting up listening posts)

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**20th March/ today.**

OK, up to date.

Today, I had a new idea to follow which I pitched to Oates. He seemed very concerned/ dismissive at first (for _some_ strange reason) but he eventually related. My plan is that, given the Pred communities reluctance to discuss things with the police (and their distrust of the authorities), I'll focus on the Prey managers of Orphanages. So far today, I interviewed the managers of five orphanages who had Preds abducted, and they've got some interesting things in common.

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 **\- - -** The first issue is how they treat, or treated their Predator cubs and kits. By and large, they aim to transfer as many to Predator only establishments as soon as possible, in what they said was for both type's benefit. I was confused as to why at first, and then I saw the photos on the walls. Even when it was time to remember all who'd grown up under the roofs of the respective institutes, even when it was time to make their Preds and Prey look smart or cute as possible… the Preds still had muzzles strapped to their faces…

Just like they had 24/7, each and every year, till they were either adopted out or sent to an orphanage that didn't have such a policy. Whether they were old enough to be collared or not, each and every Pred child had one of those nasty metal things strapped around their mouths…

God, that was a real downer. I mean, I can sort of understand _why_ they'd do it for younger ones without a collar, but the older one? I mean, even if they might 'unmaliciously' bite a prey kid, surely some stern words and warnings before that would be enough?

It makes my heart hurt to think of them know, struggling to talk or eat, with cold metal restricting them and reminding them every day of what their place is in the world. What kind of mammal would strap and then lock something on another mammal permanently, knowing full well that it restricted the very basic functions of their being…

Who would support such an arrangement?

If anything, I can find solace in the fact that both me, and the majority of prey mammals, are far too civilised and evolved for that horrible speciesist barbarity.

Looking through other records, it seems that almost all the orphan abductions have been from Orphanages where Preds are treated badly. Predator only ones, or the more progressive Prey-Pred ones without a muzzle rule (thankfully in the majority), have few or no abductions. However, a good few orphans HAVE been 'vanished' with their new families some time (but in an unusually high number of cases, just after) their abduction.

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 **\- - -** So, whoever is doing this is going after the Pred kids who are worst off. Maybe lying or tricking them, promising them something better. Something that turns out to be the honey in the trap or the carrot beneath the crate. Asking further and further, I couldn't find any other linking factor until I spotted something at the final home. All the Predator kids swarming to meet a new mammal, this big old Bear who was coming in to read them a story. I wasn't going to think anything of it, until I heard one of the staff give a backhanded comment about him returning 'just like last time'. Pressing her about the issue, she said that he came in frequently, but very frequently just before they lost their last lot of kids. I couldn't talk to him there or then, but I phoned up all the other orphanages and they said the same thing. He was a common visitor, but much more common just before the abductions. In addition, a few said that he made the Pred kids really excited, an excitement which peaked on the day before they went…

.

I talked about Oates for a bit and he dismissed it out of hand, saying that no Pred would ever work for the knights. But I'm not sure anymore. He's holding onto something I don't know of while too many things don't hold up. I, however, am beginning to think that the 'Knights of the Muzzle' is a cover for something. A distraction for a deeper organisation, run by both Preds and Prey with some vile, nefarious end goal. Let's not forget, no one has ever been found or convicted of being anything more than a 'wannabe' imitation group. We have no leads on the leadership, no evidence of deeper planning and mounting evidence that Preds are in on something that we're not.

Regardless, I aim to track this Bear down and have, in the meantime, prescribed this particular orphanage a double dose of extra security cameras for safety.

Judy Hopps, signing out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

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**_March, 1994_ ** **.**

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I never thought I'd miss a bath…

.

Who would?

.

Even if the water started out nice and warm, it would eventually cool down and, whether you got out of it before then or not, you would have to get out regardless. That meant that your fur, all soaking wet, would be cold and dripping everywhere meaning you'd be shivering for ages while drying yourself out, no matter how fast you tried to shake the water off of you or how powerful your fur dryer was.

Then (especially if you still had your winter coat) you'd need to spend an hour or so combing and preening yourself to get all the knots out of your fur, working through every part of your body slowly but surely with a brush and then a comb. As if that wasn't enough, your fur would then get all poofy, dry and frizzy once it had dried out. That meant you had to wet your fur all over again, before brushing it down for a second time. Worst of all, even with a collar on, there were so many better things to be doing. Reading comics, watching TV, riding a bike or playing with a ball.

Every other day back at home, Mum and Dad would drag me into our little bathroom and drop me in, always saying that if it weren't for my 'bad attitude' about baths then I'd be the perfect child. It was only two years ago that they trusted me enough to scrub myself clean without one of them in the room to either do it themselves, or check that I was doing it properly. OK… thinking back, I sort of asked for that given how many times I'd refuse to do it if I were left alone. I should have just grumbled and learned to scrub myself with that brush as fast as I could, rather than having to make my parents look over me till I was seven.

Even after I got my privacy in my baths, they still didn't entirely trust me and I'd get sniffed over after each and every one, just to make sure that I'd done the job right. The few times I didn't, I quickly found myself back in a new (and this time most definitely cold) bath and at the end of a rough going over, both Mum and Dad holding me down tight as they scrubbed me. I learned very quickly that that really wasn't fun, so I made some small safeguards. I'd double scrub myself during each and every bath just to be safe, before I'd then get out and not pull the plug, so that I'd at least be going back into lukewarm water should my work not be good enough. Finally, I'd ask for a sniff-check right after I got out, so I didn't waste time drying myself only to get wet again.

But… when I did do a good enough job and had dried myself out, Mum would always have a special treat for me. She'd put on the kid's radio channel (and not the one where half the jokes were a naughty Pred getting zapped) before preening me herself. I knew how to keep my fur in order on my own of course, but all my canine and feline friends loved getting it done for them and I was no exception. It makes you feel so relaxed and loved, knowing that someone who cares more for you than anyone else in the world is keeping you clean, neat and looking smart and handsome. So, while I lay on my front or back, her fur brush going through me (and often tickling me a little bit) we'd talk and laugh and cuddle. She would sometimes kiss me behind the ear, or hug me tight, or best yet preen me a bit with her own tongue and teeth, like us Foxes did in the savage ages. I don't know why the Prey mammals can't stand getting preened like that, bar the fact that they're dumb, because there's nothing like the teeth and tongue of someone you love rubbing and scratching gently along your skin, unknotting your fur as they go. Feeling her tongue rubbing along my own fur, or the pull of her sucking gently on a bit of skin as she tried to get rid of a fur knot, or even the tug of her fangs as they scratched down deep was just like being cuddled or hugged, only a hundred times better. It made you feel so warm and cosy and sleepy on the inside, but most of all super safe and super loved in a way that nothing else did. It was so good that afterwards, once Dad had done his bit as well and I'd had my glass of warm milk and some choc-chip cookies, I'd fall asleep in Mum's lap half the time and needed to be carried to my basket.

That's the only part of having a bath I'd miss, but why would I miss the whole experience now? Seeing as we didn't have hot water over here on the island, no one made us have normal baths in a tub so, instead, we got sponge or tongue baths (and Mum would sometimes help me lick myself clean from head to toe) which was way, way nicer. I'd often asked why we couldn't just have those, and only those, back in Zootopia. The response had been some mumbo jumbo about it 'not cleaning down far enough' but until right now, I'd dismissed it all.

Now though… as I sat in one of the new baths in the bath house, after spending an hour soaking and cleaning myself with loads of soap and shampoo, I believed it. After a year without a proper wash with all the right equipment, the water I was in was almost brown with gunk and dust, all of it having been stuck deep inside my fur and clogging it all up.

Now it was out though, floating in the water, I not only felt clean but way, way better for being so. For the first time in my life having a bath clicked, and I could stay in here for hours longer. But the bath I was in was also getting colder minute by minute and, after the first shiver soon gave way to a whole session of the trembles, I decided to finally get out.

It was a shame really, as this bath had given me a whole new appreciation for the concept.

Whereas back in Zootopia a preening had been the main event that you had to suffer through a bath to get, this was really great by itself. It was like my muscles had turned to gloop or something when I'd settled into the hot water, and I genuinely felt squeaky clean after a while in there and realised just how bad being dirty felt. But all good things had to come to an end and, as I slowly took care not put too much pressure on my hand-paws sore pads, I lifted myself up and out of the grey and red soup.

Despite losing what looked like half my fur (nothing to worry about though, I'd started moulting a few days ago), my coat felt ten times heavier than usual as I dropped myself onto the steel sheeting floor placed to the side of the tub, the water flowing out of my fur dripping down onto it and running off like it was a giant draining board.

Pulling the plug, I let the foul liquid filling the bath drain down the plug hole, from where it would flow into the septic tank Al had installed when building the bath houses. The whole building was built behind the town hall, like Mr Khalid's latrines, and had been slowly built up over the winter with materials we collected and stuff we'd brought over on the boat.

The big Wolf had wanted it open for the New Year's Feast celebrations, not New Year's Eve or Day, but rather the festival that the Bears and many other mammals had when they came out from hibernation. Apparently, a big cleaning splurge was one of the first things they did when they awoke, both for their house and themselves, before having a 'Big Breakfast'. While the baths had been completed a week or so ago, the Bears were apparently all sleeping in, and so I had all the hot water from the big wood boiler (which was fired up and ready for the upcoming big clean) to myself! Or at least I would have, were it not for all the other Preds all having the same idea. The only exception was a dozen or so mammals including my Paps, who'd headed back to Zootopia to bring a whole new batch of supplies over, as well as a new group of Preds to join us. The newcomers would all stay in the town hall while everyone built their new houses, before they would all move in sometime over summer. Dad said he planned to make one more trip after that this year, before we all settled down for the winter.

I began to shiver more and more as I waited, huddling myself up to keep in the warmth while my teeth began chattering together. However, finally, a gurgle signalled that the bath was empty and I hopped back in, blasting on the showerhead and covering myself in hot water. At first I just held it over my shoulders and nape, letting the tight muscles there unlock even more, before I cleaned up the gunk on the side of the tub. I'd been swimming in that stuff for ages, so there'd likely be more still left inside me, something I planned to remedy right away. Angling the steaming hot water up, I let it filter through my fur and down to its roots, forcing out the remaining bits of dirt and even more fur. The hot kiss of the water on my skin was lovely and relaxing, so I just stood there for ten minutes or so, going over myself with the shower and carefully rubbing in lots of shampoo until I truly felt clean (and the water dripping down from me finally looked like the stuff coming out of the shower head).

With a sign, I finally put down the hot water and jumped out of the tub for the final time. This time, knowing I was going to dry myself, I turned my body and began shaking violently from left to right and right to left and back again, as fast as I could manage. The force of the shaking caused my fur to pull itself taught and throw off as much of the water still trapped in it as I could manage. I carried on and on and on until I finally got too dizzy and had to stop, just stumbling about around the place until I rested my paw on the tub to steady myself.

It was a mistake.

A big one.

I squealed, almost cussing, as I flinched back at the jolt of pain. I couldn't help but turn my paw around and look at the sore red pads and bald patches on the underside, still throbbing with pain despite no longer being in contact with anything.

Turning away and wrapping myself up in a bunch of towels, I unlocked the door to the bathroom and stepped out into the central corridor of the baths. The whole bathhouse was just a small barn building like the ones built onto the town hall, but with stone walls and floors rather than wood. Inside, it had baths for the smallest weasels to the largest polar bear and a whole load of other special features too. To the left and right were scratching posts, bits of trees and bark nailed up onto the walls which you could rub your back against, while there were dedicated showers as well. There was even a dedicated hot and cold pool for big groups to go into, which an entire (and naked!) coyote family were relaxing in. Moving swiftly on, I got to the centre of the baths and entered the drying room. It was like midday in Sahara square in there, seeing as about half of the big metal boiler that heated all the water for the baths jutted into it. Settling down onto one of the wooden benches, I just sat back and relaxed, the muted tune of the burning firewood just perfect for sending me off to sleep….

.

.

.

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When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the pain in my paw pads. They hurt, they ached, it was like hundreds of pins were being pushed into them twice a second or so… I tried to ignore them, gritting my teeth, but they were so sore that any attempt was futile. It was absolute agony and even as I squeezed my eyes hard shut and gritted my teeth, I couldn't help but cry a bit. Groaning, and this time properly cursing under my breath, I slid off the bench and, after checking I was dry, made my way over to the lockers. Quickly wrapping myself in a clean pair of clothes, I made my way out of the bath house and over to Honey's house as fast as I could, thankful that my feet-pads were unaffected. I was desperate at this point for anything to reduce the pain, so it was a great relief when I saw Mrs Badger waiting at the door for me.

"Mrs Badger!" I shouted out, although she just shook her head and tutted. "I'm sorry, I was in the baths and fell asleep. But please, can I…"

"Come on in," she sighed, and I did so as fast as I could. Groaning and moaning, the seconds it took her to dive into one of the boxes and pick out a packet of painkillers seemed like hours. In the meantime, I carefully picked up a small cup and filled it with water from a jug, making sure that it was my claws that handled it rather than my palms. Finally, I took a swig just as Mrs Badger came over with the pills. I swallowed them down before she could speak, before muttering out a quick thank you.

"They'll take some time to work you know?" she said, with an edge of concern. I nodded slowly, knowing that the next fifteen minutes or so wouldn't be fun. Pausing, she leant forward to inspect my paws closer and sighed. "Such a shame… you had lovely paws and now look at them." Looking down, I took in the damage as well. The paw-pads had it worst, raw red and blistering. But much of the fur elsewhere was gone or patchy, either cut out or short, or shed when the skin beneath turned bad as well. "I hope that teaches you to wear gloves next time you handle cement."

I groaned, remembering back to what had started this all. Al had given everyone a design for the composting toilets, which would be a standard part of the new batch of houses (along with running water, tapped from the spring) and Mum, wanting to do something useful while Dad was away wanted to build one for our house. Like all homes in the town, we had a big back garden accessed from a door in the lounge, placed on the opposite side to the stairs. Mum had suggested putting up a simple outbuilding there and Al had approved it, but just after work started she began feeling very sick. So, I stepped up and helped as much as I could, which involved mortaring together the bricks and stone. It was after a hard day's work and with paws covered in cement that I realised what the word caustic meant, having heard Honey warn me about cement being that beforehand and disregarding it as one of her ramblings. It made sense now why she'd kept badgering me about that, but one thing still didn't make sense even now, and I said as much right there and then. "But back in Zootopia, the beavers handle cement with their tails all the time…"

Mrs Badger just chuckled. "Do you know how many I had to help after they used the wrong cement type, or forget to clean their tails?" I just shrugged as she dived in to pinch my cheek, wobbling it about a bit before sending me on my way.

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It was a quick stroll across to my house, skipping across the new road which curved around the (still muddy) park and towards our new home. The weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worse, with big grey clouds rolling in from the west and my already frizzy hair beginning to stick up on end. My tail, which I'd been working hard to keep off the ground since cleaning it, looked twice its size. Fortunately, the road had been cobbled over the winter and was no longer the muddy track it used to be, so there was no worry about dirtying up my fur. It wasn't a big road like in Zootopia, and was only wide enough to take one car at a time, but we didn't have or need cars so it didn't matter. Al said that it was good thing that we weren't bringing those across, as he didn't know how to make a proper road, instead copying some crazy paving he'd helped to do once. He seemed far less moody now, and every time I saw him he was enjoying his work. He explained it by saying that back in Zootopia, he'd always have to be careful in order to stop his heartbeat getting too high and his collar going off. Now though, he was free to enjoy his work and his life. I shuddered slightly, remembering those nasty things, before jumping up into our house and making my way to the lounge at the back. I could hear Mum up on the top floor, and had smelled Finnick's Mum as soon as I walked through the door. That didn't prepare me for the sight I saw when I started walking up the stairs however. Pausing, my feet rooted to the ground as I peered into the kitchen area, I watched on as the little Fennec Vixen stuck her nose up Mum's skirt and twitched her muzzle.

I didn't want to know what was going on, so I turned and scurried on outside, all while Mum squealed in joy upstairs.

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I returned after an hour or so to see Mum tending the fire, slowly feeding larger blocks of wood onto the kindling as she built it up. The sun was going down and Mrs Ibn-Zerdain had joined the kitchens, ready to prepare food for everyone tonight. I talked to her on her way over, she seemed very happy for me, although sadly it wasn't due to Scorpion Tagine being on the menu that night (instead, it was loads of fried cockles, cod and calamari with chips, with ketchup or spicy sauce on the side (which was almost as nice)). I didn't know what to say to Mum after seeing _that._ I didn't even know what _that_ was. But when she turned to face me and smiled, it seemed that she had an explanation lined up ready for me.

"I'm guessing you didn't know what to make of what Cherifa was doing back there, do you?"

"No Mum," I replied back, shrugging as I did so before pausing, an idea forming in my head. "Was she preening you? Licking there to make you feel better?"

I flinched back as Mum coughed sharply, her eyes wide as her hacks became chuckles. I stood there for a bit, still confused as she shook her head and sighed. Smiling, she came over and cradled my muzzle, pulling it up to face her. "Well, my sweet innocent Kit" she said as a wide smile grew across her face. "She wasn't preening me, she was just sniffing to see if she could find what was causing me to be sick."

"I'm guessing it wasn't anything bad," I replied, remembering her scream of joy.

"No," she chirped, her smiled getting even wider. "It wasn't anything bad or dangerous at all, quite the opposite in fact. But now, it seems like you need a really good grooming, don't you?" Her smile faded a bit as she leant closer, drawing a few of her claws through my fur and frowning as they snagged on knots. "And I mean a real good grooming. WHAT have you been up to…"

I looked way bashfully, before quietly muttering out my reply. "I may have fallen asleep in the drying room…"

"Well," she tutted, "That explains a lot!"

And so, as the fire burned hot in the fireplace and warmed us all up, Mum set to work on my fur. Stripping down to my undies and curling myself up next to her, I settled down as she began her work. First came the course brush (or knot-buster as Mum called it), working its way through my fur and breaking apart the knots effortlessly and painlessly wherever it went, while rubbing my skin underneath in a way that made it feel like a nasty itch was being scratched, relief oozing out as it went. She made an extra effort on the places that I loved to be stroked, such as down my back, around on my tummy and twirling down my tail, letting it coil around her arm as she made her way up to its tip. Feeling those special places done made me giggle, my legs twitching and jigging about as she stroked, before I relaxed, closed my eyes and just purred away like an outboard motor. Now working on the top of my head, she planted gentle kisses on the back of my ears like usual, sending them flicking and fidgeting just like they always did whenever I felt her warmness on them.

"You know," she sighed, "in a few years you'll be a self-conscious teenager, and you wouldn't be seen like dead like this."

"No I won't," I frowned, thinking about how much I loved to be preened while turning onto my back so that I looked up, letting her work on the underside of my chin.

"Oh, you will," she said again, before giggling and putting one of her paws behind my neck. I was smiling as she began tickling that area, before the tickle turn into a gentle pinch that made my blood run cold. "I mean," she continued as my muzzle parted ready to scream, a sense of utter primeval dread coursing through me. She wouldn't, would she? This was my Mum… She loved me! She wasn't going to… "You used to be fine with me scruffing you, weren't you?"

" **MUM!** "

Screaming, I tossed and turned, pushing myself away from her while my limbs kicked off and threw me hard onto the floor. I landed heavily on all fours, screaming as a jolt of pain ran through my hand-pads, before I lifted myself back onto two feet. I didn't have time to think, I just had to get away. I just had to run. No-one was ever going to scruff me, especially not my own Mum! I tripped and rolled on the floor before scrambling back, pushing away with my feet until my back hit the wall. With nowhere to go I looked up, straight into my Mums face, and I gasped.

It was a face of horror.

A face of revulsion.

A face of shame.

Her muzzle was parted and trembling, her eyes wide and moist and her ears peeled back, looking sadder than they'd ever done before. But what hit me the most was her paws, feebly held up to her heart as she began stammering. "I… I… I'm sorry…" was all she could manage before she sniffed, and the first few tears began pouring out. Glancing to the sides, I carefully walked forward and hugged her legs. Yes, I thought she was about to do something mortifying… horrifying… terrifying… to me, taking away my freedom of my body and treating me as nothing more than a baby. But she wasn't, and would never have, I could see that. She was just teasing and went a bit too far, something I'd done many times before, and I couldn't bear to see my Mummy cry. My eyes were closed, but I heard her sobs, and then her pained whisper as she said my name. "Nick…"

"It's… It's alright Mum…" I replied as I looked up into her green eyes. A smile returned to her face, then mine. Jumping up and scooting back into my comfy position, we slowly began my preening again. At first slowly and coldly with the brush as she tested the waters, but soon I was curled up or splayed out and purring away as if nothing had happened, all while she played or fussed with my fur. While she did one of my sides, I curled up with my face buried in her chest, rubbing sleepily against her blouse. I could smell her musk and scent and I breathed it in, filling my lungs as far as I could with it. It smelt like Mum, like protection and warmth and care and love. But it seemed to smell of those more now than I could ever remember, while also smelling of something else. I didn't know what it was, but it made me want to protect her and keep her safe. Carefully lifting up her blouse, I burrowed my nose deep into her chest fur where the scent was overpowering, and continued to breathe it in until we moved on to the next step.

"Now Nick," Mum said with a hint of concern, "after… earlier… do you want me to use the comb and my teeth and tongue, or just the comb?"

I scowled slightly, before giving her my answer. "ONLY your teeth and tongue."

She chuckled, rolling her eyes before sighing. "Very well then… let's start with… YOUR EARS!"

My eyes widened as I realised my mistake, but I couldn't get a single word out before the onslaught began. Her rough tongue, poking out to its full extent, dove into my right ear and planted itself on my skin before dragging itself up. Instantly, as she began cleaning and licking my most ticklish area I turned into a writhing mass of giggling, squirming and laughing fur. The tickling kept on going and going and going, before she pulled out and looked at me with a giant grin on her face. "OK son?"

"NOT THE OTHER EAR, PLEASE NOT THE OTHER EAR!" I yelled out, through the giggles and laughs that still came out of my mouth.

"… OK then," she chuckled before setting to work on the rest of my body. I just sat back and relaxed, reading an old comic book as she worked hard on every inch of me. Dragging her teeth through my fur or licking it with her course tongue, dragging and rubbing it against me as it fixed my fur all right, it was the most loved you could ever feel. But as it went on, I remembered what she said earlier and my ears flicked back with concern.

"Mum…"

"Yes Son?"

"You said I'd grow out of being preened, that means you grew out of being preened too. Don't you miss it?"

A few muted grunts came out, before she pulled her teeth from my tail fur and looked up. "I never got preened like this," she said with a sigh, "back in the orphanage where I grew up, they'd just run over me here and there with a comb… I learned very quickly to do it yourself as it was less painful. At least I could do it with my teeth and claws once I got my collar though, as unlike some homes that made Preds wear muzzles at all times, this one took them off once you were tamed."

Turning onto my back as she started to work on my tummy, I couldn't help but start to cry about that. I knew she didn't have a happy childhood, but I didn't know it was that bad. Not being preened was as bad, if not worse, than never being hugged or kissed and no kid ever deserved that, especially one as good as my Mum. I leaned up to hug her, but she held a paw up to stop me as she carried on speaking.

"When you grow up and fall in love with a Vixen, you'll get someone to groom you… Your father often groomed me…" She paused to sniff and wipe a tear from her eye, before she steadied herself to carry on. "The first time I was scared, not knowing what it would be like. But by the end, I cried knowing what I'd missed as a child. When I… When I groomed him, he said it was just as nice as when he was a child. He says that people who love each other very much make the best preeners, and even the best professionals in the city can't match that."

I smiled as I turned onto my side, letting her preen that fur as I smiled and purred. As she sucked and licked and dragged her teeth, working through me and giving each little bit its own helping of love, my eyes closed and I drifted once again into a deep, peaceful sleep.

.

.

It was two days later that Dad returned on the boat. My Pads had mostly healed but Mum made me bandage them up and wait with her on the beach as the boats came over, lest they get covered in salt water. I looked over at the boat and saw more mammals. More families. Some Bears, Tigers, Leopards, Minks, a big family of Red Foxes and a smaller one of some browny-black ones with round ears. There were likely even more that I'd missed. All these new Preds, standing around looking in awe and rubbing their necks, still struggling to get used to freedom. They'd get used to it soon enough, and love every minute of it. By the time I spotted Dad, the sight making my heart flutter, the tide was some way out and I raced across the wet sand to meet him, crying out his name as I went.

"DADDY! DADDY!"

As his boat landed on the sand and he leapt out, he looked towards me and his eyes widened in glee. "COME HERE, SON!"

I leapt at the end, smashing into him and latching on before his own arms wrapped around me, cuddling me tight. "I missed you Paps…" was all I could say as I began to cry, so happy to see him again. I just wanted to be next to him, smelling his scent and feeling his arms around my body, forever. But after a blissful age, he set me down and we made our way up to Mum.

"How was the time alone?" he asked, before cocking his head to the side. "Were you the man of the house like I asked?"

"I was, Paps!" I cried out, before remembering the injuries to my paws. "It's… it's harder than it looks."

He couldn't help but chuckle, before patting me hard on the back. "Don't worry Son, it's scary now but you'll look back afterwards and wonder what all the fuss was about… Anyway, glad I could be back. I promised I would be before your big tenth, didn't I?"

"You did Paps," I said, nodding as we came up to Mum, Dad running forward to hug and kiss her. I looked on smiling as they embraced, until Dad pulled back and his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Marie…" he began to say, "is… anything different?"

"Oh no…" she replied quietly, although looking up I noticed a very sly look growing across her face. "Just glad that the father of my children is home."

I must have missed something at the point, because for some reason my Dad choked up and his eyes grew as wide as dinner plates.

.

Nope… Now Dad's acting really happy… still don't get it.

.

.

Waidamminnit….

.

.

.

.

Oh, great mother Marian…


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

.

_Judy's Journal. 24.03.16._

.

Note: As part of my investigation I received a new speech to text recorder. It's pretty neat, and I chose to try it out while meeting this person of interest. Full transcript is included below, along with some comments I made after the meeting.

It took a long time to track this Bear down, turns out he has a small apartment somewhere in down town but spends most of his time either around and about the city or at a 'hang out place'. All of this was according to a few mammals at the orphanages who said that he was a friend of theirs. Strangely, they didn't know where either place was, having just heard reports from him about 'my flat' and 'my home'. I pressed them on the issue, though they all just shrugged and said that this guy tended to be rather shy. It took ages to filter through the contacts and listings, but I eventually found some of his friends who were both willing to help me and actually could.

It turns out that he spends most of his time at his 'hang out place', which is an abandoned signal box in an old railyard of all things _(note, the 'of all things' is referring to him hanging about in an abandoned signal box in an old railyard, not an abandoned signal box being in an old railyard, given that an old railyard is just the place you'd expect to see an abandoned signal box, but NOT a Bear. I think I've made that clear enough so as to avoid anybody reading from thinking I'm a dumb Bunny... Right, let's get on back on track (no pun intended (I know I'm many things but my Dad I'm not)))_. It was near dusk when I went there, ready to meet him, but oddly enough he'd got a bonfire going of all things. Never the less, I put on my recorder/transcriber and went to meet him.

.

"Mr Grizzleworth?"

_(Note, he didn't seem to hear me at first.)_

"Mr Grizzleworth?"

"Yes…"

_(At this point he turned to face me. He'd been stoking his bonfire, and seemed rather amiable, so I proceeded with caution.)_

"I hope you have a permit for that." _(Is there such thing as a bonfire permit? Better check with the farming members of the family, given that they burn off any stubble or junk after the harvest.)_

"A what?"

"A permit, for your bonfire."

"Why would I need one of those?"

_(He seemed rather confused at this point, and walked over to meet me. We shook paws, note to self: the novelty of Bear hand-shakes, like hugs, gets old very fast (double note to self, book a visit to a hand specialist ASAP))_

"Well, if this is on your land, because if it isn't I can get you in for arson…"

"It is my land, here is my deed."

_(Mr Grizzleworth brought out a proper deed for the land, seemed annoyingly smug (I may have had Fox flashbacks))._

"Well still, there are clean air regulations…" _(_ _Sic_ _Cit needed.)_

"Zootopia clean air act, 1956, open fires without permits within the downtown and climate managed district are here forth prohibited. Those used to remove domestic or private waste, of any origin, are allowed outside these districts with no conditions, bar that the material is non-toxic…"

_(I may have been a teensy-tiny bit lost for words at this point. Must check up these rules in my spare time)._

"To quote a friend of mine, it's called a hustle sweetheart."

_(Belittling comment snapped me back to reality)_

"Please sir, would you kindly refrain from calling me Sweetheart in the future."

"As a grumpy old man I could choose not to, but I like your style and I'm in a good mood today."

_(He turned back to his fire at this point, throwing on more fuel. He invited me to sit down on a waiting deck chair, an offer which I accepted. There was a nasty chilly breeze that evening, so the chance to warm myself was very much welcome. He offered me some homemade_ _bear_ _beer, which I declined given that I am on duty, before we settled in to silence for around about five minutes. I'm not sure why I didn't pursue the questions further, but I'm guessing it was because something off-putted me. Thinking back, that Bear was radiating dangerous levels of smugness and self-confidence not seen since my encounter with Mr Vulpes. Anyway, after five minutes I must have recovered from the Fox flashbacks because I resumed my questioning.)_

"Mr…"

"Please, just call me Smokey."

"Mr Smokey, it seems that you're often a volunteer at orphanages around Zootopia…"

"And what if I am? I like Kids…"

"With respect, given my line of investigation, that is a phrase you may want to avoid saying."

"Given the sequence of phrases you've just spurted out, I'd be very willing to help this investigation."

"You seem very eloquent…"

"Well thank you! _(he seemed to really enjoy my compliment)_. You got me just after I'd returned from a lesson with an expert."

"Anyway, you know about the knights of the muzzle, don't you?"

"They're a nasty piece of work, I know that."

"Indeed, and they've been preying on orphan predators. Often those who've just been told stories by you, and were acting unusually excited…"

_(Note, at this point the Bear just grunted and settled back into his chair, remaining silent for a minute or so. It took a while, but I eventually gave up waiting and jumped onto his stomach, thumping my foot quite violently to garner his attention)._

"Yawn…. Hello again Cute … Grrrr… _(Note: I don't remember him growling at this point. It must have been me.)_ Bunny, what are you doing on my stomach?"

"Please do not call me…"

"Cute? I had it on good authority that you guys loved being called cute."

"It seems that your good authority isn't that good."

"Really? You were complementing his work earlier. He was my eloquence mentor."

_(I had this fleeting, but in hindsight crazy, image of Mr Vulpes teaching Smokey how to jab my buttons. I quickly shook it out though, that was absurd)._

"Regardless. Please don't call me cute. And going back to my original point…"

"You don't think little old me had anything to do with this?"

"From where I'm standing, it's the best theory anyone's come up with in twenty years."

"And to think! My precious tax dollars, all those hundreds of thousands, going to waste!"

_(I was getting quite annoyed by what seemed like a feigned innocence routine by this point, so I may have got a bit female wolfy. Also, hundreds of thousands? The cheek of giving such a bare faced lie to a cop is obscene.)_

"Smokey, I'd hardly think a mammal of your species, or for that matter type, _(OK, in hindsight that was a teensy tiny bit beyond the pale)_ and predicament would enable you to pay thousands, or even hundreds, in Tax."

"My Dear _(he seemed a bit hurt at this point, holding his paw over his heart)_ I was a millionaire once."

"Yes, and I'm a filigree Siberian hamster…"

"No! I mean it. I won the lotto, about nineteen… eighteen years ago, or thereabouts."

_(I'm guessing my facial expression must have betrayed my combined mix of disbelief and curiosity at this stage. Even if it didn't, my next question certainly did.)_

"And yet, this doesn't look like the prime life, does it?"

 _(He laughed LOUD at this point.)_ "My dear, who says that a penthouse in the Palm Tower is everyone's idea of the highlife."

"And your idea is?"

"I'm… I'm into charity work mostly. I was always into the simple things, but knowing that you're helping hard put upon Preds get businesses off the ground or improve their meagre lot never gets old."

"And what about Prey mammals?" _(I still maintain this was a fair question, despite his sudden body language change suggesting that he didn't see it as such. If he really was into pure charity he shouldn't care who gets the money, just as long as it's the neediest. Pred or Prey. Speciesism is a two way street, and as a mammal constantly dismissed and belittled, I know what it's like to live squarely and undeniably at the bottom of the pile.)_

"Do they not have the Banks? Or the Prey only credit agencies. Or the big families and support groups? From the way I see it, I'm merely offering the help that Preds should be getting."

_(At this point he stood up and left me and I ended the transcript. However, he wasn't done with me as recorded below)._

.

I was rather annoyed by how evasive and pointless this whole endeavour had been, although I was curious about checking out the extent of his story, in particular seeing if he was a past lotto winner as he so claimed. He, however, had other ideas and, while I was walking away, he invited me up into his signal box. I was a bit nervous at first, before deciding to see what it got me. Turns out it was a pleasant surprise. The top of that signal box is in pristine condition, all the wood and glass polished up while all the levers are in position and shining, the brass looking like it hadn't aged a bit. I remember him grabbing one with his cloth and yanking it down, before offering to hang my coat on it (I politely declined).

Settling down on a chair, I asked him about this place, and he revealed that he used to work here. Turns out he was employed here in the late 50's aged 16. He laughed, telling me how, once he'd finished training, the ZTS replaced all the semaphore signals on the zootopian rail network the next year with digital systems. His yard still used the mechanical system for a bit, but just after his 20th birthday they closed it in its entirety and he lost his job.

He seemed quite sad at this point, saying that he fiancé left him (although he said that in hindsight it wouldn't have worked). After that, he was in and out of work for a long time and survived on odd jobs and spare couches (apparently, 'the prime Zootopian Pred experience'. Albeit thankfully lacking in the police brutality (I'm pretty sure that was a rather unfunny (and very much untrue) joke.))

When he won the lottery, he bought his old workspace (apparently for one dollar) and hoped to employ Preds to build housing for Preds (he mentioned something about making a bank that would treat Preds like 'actual mammals' (I mean seriously, it's not as if someone would scupper a viable loan because it would involve loaning to Preds. If anything, they just need to work on improving their credit.)) However, the culling of the fishing quotas occurred not long after (seemed like he was another one of those 'rape the earth/ drill baby drill' uneducated Pred types who lack compassion or empathy for the environment) so he scuppered those plans.

He restored his signal box into a hangout spot, before spending time helping other Preds with business propositions and such (speciesist alert, the Preds would be up in arms if a Prey mammal tried to do the same thing in reverse). He also enjoyed volunteering and charity work, having seen a lot in life and not wanting anything too exciting on the way out.

I asked him about the fires, and he just said they were warm and relaxing. Said he might have enjoyed exciting stuff were it not for a little certain something, before rather conspicuously gesturing to his neck (must have really bad pain in there, one of my cousins had an awful trapped nerve for a long time which stopped her doing any sport, almost made me feel sorry for the guy).

.

I'd decided to leave then, to run over some more details of this Ursine. I didn't like the idea of a somewhat open Pred supremacist type telling children stories and wanted to see if there was anything more about this that I'd missed. It was at that stage he seemed to jolt awake, saying that he'd remembered it. When I pressed him, he said that he'd seen a few shady foreign figures but didn't know their name or species (all he knew was that they were literally hovering about). He said that if he saw them again, he could send them over for an informal chat in a week or so.

Normally I wouldn't take up on that offer but, given the urgency of this case and the need to follow each and every potential lead that offers itself up, I chose to give it a shot.

.

As for any other news, nothing much so far. No new vanishings, but we'll soon be due for another set, all the more reason to keep investigating. Also, it seems that the heads of department have decided to invite me to this big social get together where we sit around and eat Gazpacho soup and stuff. I'll certainly be pulling out all the stops for that and, afterwards, they'll have no excuse to see me as a dumb bunny, that's for certain.

J Hopp's, signing off.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

.

The four conspirators had agreed to meet up in the abandoned building a day or so ago. Nick, concerned for his guests, had at least taken the time to dust the floor and set out some furniture, along with a small gas light that burned bright, giving out a flickering glow. He noted that the area would have been able to take on a fleeting resemblance to something hospitable if it weren't for the vast desolate plain of rotting carpet that surrounded him on all sides, stretching off and off until it met the peeling walls and shattered windows far away. In a move calculated to combat the haunting atmosphere of the place, and to make the upcoming meeting a pleasant event for all parties, the Fox had ordered a nice, homely, species optimised takeout for each of his co-conspirators, the warm smells of food already seeping out of the bag and somewhat cancelling out the pervasive reek of mould and decay that had filled this place over the several decades since it had last shut.

Tattle-tail was the first to arrive, and the only one able to sneak up on Nick unnoticed thanks to his small size and light feet. Admittedly, the water vole's attempt to startle him at the end of this turned out to be quite anticlimactic, with a tiny paw and quiet voice rather inadequate to cause a sudden jump and scream as one might expect if this were a film.

"You know, if all Prey trying to buzz Preds for laughs were as bad as you, this world would be a better place," Nick sassed as he looked down at the diminutive rodent, who just grumbled somewhat as he turned to the table. He grumbled some more when he reached the bottom of the significantly oversized chair, the challenges of providing equal facilities for different mammal sizes becoming evident.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." Nick said, a smug grin on his face as the smaller mammal's tail swished around in annoyance. Rolling his eyes, the Fox leant forward to help his friend up only to jolt back as a sudden POP rang out, followed by a rattle as the grappling hook Tattletail had fired from a previously hidden launcher hooked over the tin-foil casing of a polar-bear sized meal. Tugging on his line to make sure he was safe, the Vole threaded the rope through an electric winch and hung on as he slowly began to rise, a confused "huh…" coming out of his mouth as he registered the unusually sloth like performance of his equipment.

"Break that out at every Café?"

Tattletail just shrugged at the question before looking up. "Sadly being in possession of a grappling hook, despite all its many, many legitimate benefits, has the sad effect of making people think that you have it to solely benefit from the, shall we say, less than 'fair' ones…"

"I hear you," Nick replied, before there was a pregnant pause, the only sounds coming from the whirring of the vole's winch and the methodical _clip, clip, clip,_ of Nick's foot claws rapping on the cold hard ground.

"Good thing I'm trying this old girl out now, huh?" Tattletail muttered, his half-lidded eyes and annoyed stare focussed on the lethargic climbing mechanism he held in his hand. "Need to buy some WD4…"

"Don't you mean WD40?" Nick asked, picking up the final comment.

"No, WD4," the rodent replied back, before looking up at the Fox with a slight grin on his face. "And I mean, that's really pushing it as it is."

"And why would that be?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm a good deal less than one tenth your size," he said, pausing as he watched Nick chuckle. "It really depends on how you measure it though. Height, width, body mass, volume…"

"How long you're trying to stop this being awkward," Nick said back, just as Tattletail's climber let out a sharp groan before losing about half of its already fickle speed.

"Don't say this isn't cool."

"This isn't cool."

"I supposed I asked for that," the smaller Mammal admitted with a shrug, before his voice regained some of its previous pride. "A few repairs to the old girl though and I'll be able to go up and down faster than a wallaby on a trampoline. I mean, in some cases I had to. Such as when I…" Pausing for a few seconds, his mouth twitched from left to right and right to left again as he thought and muttered, primarily saying "don't wanna implicate myself in that…" over and over again. Eventually finding a suitable memory to recount, he smiled and turned back to Nick whose face lit up as the story finally continued. "…And thanks to my stellar ability to outrun a spray of chaotic albeit barely lethal bulletfire, as such is the case with anything made, run or even located in Primati, I am decidedly unpriest-like to this day!"

There was a brief pause, broken only by the flickering sound of Nick's left ear twitching, before Tattletale rolled his eyes and opened his mouth ready to speak and explain, only to be cut off as the Fox in the room finally spoke. "I do get that reference you know? Our secret Predator town may be a bit rustic, but we're not oblivious to popular culture."

"Your reaction begged to differ."

"That was just because you were unfunny."

"No I wasn't…" Tattletail immediately shot back, almost swooning as he trailed out his words.

"Regardless," Nick replied with a shrug, "do you really think that we wouldn't get the DVD for the one movie series that actually presents a Fox… heck, a whole family of foxes as starring good guys?"

"What about the one who let out the the murder-stare snake?"

"She was possessed by an evil book, that hardly counts. And given that all the Preds and the Harry Plopper franchise were shown to have never ever needed collars, I think that's a fair enough compromise."

"Ehhh?" Tattletail asked, his voice hitching with confusion as he caught Nick's last sentence. He took one of his paws off his climber, still going up at a pace that would embarrass a snail, and scratched his head before thinking. "I thought they had this taming potion they were given age five?"

Nick paused, holding his paw up to his face as he thought, before scowling with annoyance. "I think the studio put that scene in on certain releases, against the authors wishes mind you, to make it 'acceptable' in some of the other mammalian states outside of Zootopia. You know? The ones that really do make Zootopia look like a place where anyone can be anything."

"You mean BunnyBurrow and Deerbrooke?"

"Nope, go worse."

"Bullgaria and Yakistan?"

"You're going the wrong way mate," Nick replied. "Those places, Bullgaria at least, are more tolerant than the likes of Bunnyburrow, for smaller Preds at least. The way you're going, you'll soon be saying places like Western Outback and Canidaea, where close to a third of the Pop is Preds and they tried to hold referendums on whether or not to ban collars or on seceding altogether. No, we're talking about the places that used every dime a dozen dirty trick up their sleeve in the United Mammalian Congress and commission to STOP said votes, which would likely have been won mind you, from occurring."

For a few seconds there was silence, bar the sound of the ever crawling winch, until the smaller of the pair spoke out. "OH…. There…."

"There indeed," Nick replied, nodding glumly.

"… Where is there?"

Nick grunted in annoyance, rolling his eyes, before speaking the out the name of one of the terrible ten, the most Pred hating states known to mammal kind. "Allalamba…"

"Allalamba… Allalamba…" Tattletail muttered to himself, before his eyes opened wide with recongnition. Turning up to Nick once again, he spoke out. "I remember it now. This Avarian car show…"

"I thought Avarians didn't care for cars…"

"From what I gather it was lad humour with some cars added in. Regardless, they did a roadtrip through this area and had a challenge. They had to paint 'offensive slogans' on the side of each others cars, with the aim of getting each other killed. The only one I remember was 'Predo love rules, OK!"

"How did it go down?" Nick asked, before pulling back at the change in Tattletails body language.

"Suffice to say… there were no survivors."

.

.

"And on that bombshell, now what are we going to talk about?" Nick eventually asked, finally braking what had been a haunting silence with a newly invigorated and chirpy mood.

"What about how a discussion about me esacaping mortal peril turned into a debate on pop-culture references, then to geo-politics and then back again to pop culture. Moreover, how this ruins your image of being a super cool and uber suave espionage dude."

There was a soft chuckle from Nick before he replied, "You're right, while we'll have to work on removing such things to preserve our…"

"Your… given that only you care about this stuff."

"Our reputation," Nick continued, "this fun discussion did start with you trying to recount the long-gone glory days of that winch, finally finding one story out of two dozen to tell. You know, I can't wait to read the uncensored release when you finally release your memoirs! You are going to release them, aren't you?"

"Pah, in your dreams!" Tattletail cried back mockingly, before tilting his head skyward as he carried on his upward journey. The room was silent for a dozen or so seconds until finally, as the smaller mammal crawled passed the half-way point, Nick opened his mouth again, only to be cut off.

"Don't offer me help, Slick. I'm just fine on my own, though this really is a wake-up call about testing my equipment," Tattletail muttered, before his winch gave a sudden _click_. Both sets of eyes present landed on the offending item, just as a thin whiff of blue smoke escaped it. The vole's eyes closed into a fierce scowl, his nose twitching with annoyance as he fumbled with and then disconnected himself from the wire, before he scrambled up the rest of the line in a fraction of the time it would have taken him otherwise. As Nick just looked on smiling, the rodent swiftly made his way over to the small container containing his own food. Quickly tearing off the cardboard lid, he proceeded the sit down and chew it in silence.

Despite the irritated and impatient look on the rodent's face, Nick was more than happy to take a dig on his culinary habits, only for evidence of another mammals' arrival to distract him. A new sound had appeared at that moment, the tell-tale ringing of metal horse-shoes on concrete twitching the fox's and the vole's ears as it came ever closer. As the latter's mouth puckered up with interest in came Ramsey, looking tired and rushed but none the less eager to be here as he nodded warmly at Nick, who returned the gesture. Clopping and clipping, the equid settled down into a suitably sized chair and quietly began chewing the silage salad he'd asked for, its pleasant fragrance of mildly fermented cellulose filling the room. He looked down at Tattletail with curiosity, recognising him from the photos and deciding to capitalise on this second opinion as much as possible. "So, how is it?" he asked, waiting patiently for the Water Vole to finish chewing the last of the thin white lid. Hearing the question, Tattletail just shrugged and shovelled in the last of his appetiser into his mouth, before giving it a few chews and painfully swallowing the great mass down.

"How's what?"

"This colony across the sea. What's life like over there?" Ramsey specified.

Tattletail just grunted, leaning over his meal proper and picking out a small bulb of some kind. "Depressingly banal, I'm afraid."

"That's it?"

Ramsey's question was left hanging as Tattletail took a big bite out of his actual food, eating it at the most average speed imaginable. Not too fast, not too slow, no effort put into either yet, quite inadvertently, far more annoying than the any of the possible alternatives. Ramsey snorted and waited, but just as Tattletail opened his mouth to speak again another sound distracted the trio. Coming up from below and rising up the stairs with a notable purpose was the deep, loud, earth-shaking pounding of a large polar bear, the hired muscle to Nick's operation.

"Raymond?" the Fox called out with a warm smile on his muzzle, his hand flicking into a mock salute as the massive Predator silently sat down and tore off the cover to his own food, pausing briefly to look at and remove the tiny grappling hook attached to it before taking a great bite out of the fishcake stored within. Shrugging, the crimson vulpine turned to his own meal (a mealworm doner kebab) and the four ate in silence, merely wishing to fill their stomachs after what had been a long and hard day for all of them. The tension was in the air was heavy, so much so that it could be practically cut with one of the cheap plastic knives that Tattletail was using to slice up one of his roots, while the stereotypical joking and light heartedness associated with such a meeting was non-existent. All of them knew that once the distraction of the food was gone, they would be discussing serious business.

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Finally, after waiting long enough, Nick coughed slightly to gather the three other mammal's attention, before formally starting the meeting. "Ramsay, Raymond, Tattletail, it's a pleasure to be with you tonight," he began cordially, before his tone hardened and became serious. "But, we have a job to do today. Mainly discussing the job we're going to do in the future. So, we're discussing the future job, which is our present job, so that we'll live for it to be our past job. Now, I know we're all overly tense…"

"That's just you," Tattletail muttered, only for Nick to ignore him and carry on.

"I do believe that one of us had the schematics, don't we?"

"My brother sneaked it out of the archives," Ramsay announced, answering Nick's question as he brought forward a roll of paper. As Raymond cleared the table of empty foil containers, Nick leaned forward with pebbles to weigh down the edges of the sheet, revealing the complex schematics of their target, Zootopia's main hospital.

"I do not understand…" grunted the large polar bear as he stood up, widely gesturing as he spoke, his deep Russian accent ever pervasive. "Why take from biggest hospital in Zootopia, why not little clinic. Or is this to fuel Fox ego?"

"With respect, you wound me," Nick replied, swooning as he did so. "My ego has been so large, it reached critical mass and has managed to self-sustain itself for decades."

The Bear just grunted, while Tattle-tail whispered something along the lines of "he's always like this" into Ramsay's ear. Picking this up, Nick turned and scowled at the rodent, who sighed and jumped onto the schematics to speak.

"With respect," Tattletail began, "on looking at this there were several big advantages on hitting such a large target. Firstly, we'd always need an inside mammal and going after the biggest facility gave us the largest pool to draw from. Case in point, our friend back there." Ramsay, on hearing his name, meekly smiled and raised his hoof up to wave at them, before turning back to the discussion. "Secondly, the security itself isn't any order of magnitude larger than smaller facilities. In fact, I tend to find that the larger facilities are more ungainly. More entry points, more ways around, more glitches. A tiny facility in some backwater town, and this place, both have a central security facility. And a rather tiny one at that."

"Yes…" Raymond interrupted, "but why not just smash and grab, easier yes?"

"Not my style," Tattletail sighed, "too much noise."

"But easy on small facility?"

"Mr Raymond…"

"Raymond is first name, my last name is…"

"No one cares," Tattletail interrupted, though he signed somewhat when he saw a grin and chuckle on Nick's muzzle, evidence enough that he was going to use that as a joke sometime in the not too distant future, potentially in inspiration greeting card format. "Anyway, back to business, the third core reason we're hitting a large facility like this is because it's going to have far, far more of the targets for us to take than your standard."

"Once we attack once, another will likely be nigh on impossible.," Nick added. "We need as much agency from this mission as we can get. It'll be decades before the Prey establishment become vulnerable like this again, and by then we'll be stronger. Strong enough so that they can't put us down, can't deny us our freedom. With the help of mammals like Ramsay, they may even be forced to re-evaluated their worldview, although given how a certain some worked tirelessly to put down past attempts I'm not holding my hopes up".

"Exactly," Tattle-tail agreed. "When they find out what happened, we can expect a tightening of security. So, we should aim to make this raid as large as possible."

Raymond just stood there for a moment, before nodding his head in agreement and settling back down as Ramsey leant forward to speak.

"So…"

"So what, Ramsay?" Nick asked.

"What is the plan?"

"You're our inside man," Tattletail began to say as he walked over the schematics, prepping his tail in his paws as an impromptu pointing stick, ready to highlight all the individual areas of interest. "Your shift will place you near the core storage area, while you'll also be walking past the central security servers. I'll sneak in in your pocket and exit here." He explained, pointing at the small server room with his tail, before grasping and twiddling his whiskers as he continued. "I'll remove a few cables here and there, maybe install some viruses and/or large quantities of pornography…"

"Pornography?" Raymond blurted out, scratching his head at the odd statement. Tattletail meanwhile just rolled his eyes.

" **Large quantities** of pornography," he specified, though it did nothing to sully the Polar bear's confusion.

"But why?"

"Because…" Tattletail groaned as he began wandering round the table. "It firstly means that any investigators will initially believe that the security system was down due to an infection of some kind, coming from a rather horny worker."

"I've always had a bad opinion of Rhinos," Nick interrupted sarcastically, "good to see them at the butt of our jokes."

Tattletail just shook his head and groaned, before carrying on. "Regardless, it also acts as a severe distractor to anyone trying to review the system. The special codes and viruses attached to my stash mean that one does not simply delete it, given that there are more doors to go through than you could possibly imagine. It would be like trying to walk across an entire continent and into some evil empire, all while the temptation to feed your instincts is there just piling on you, like something dragging you down by the neck. Even the most courageous soul would likely falter when approaching the burning pit of the recycling bin. Let me also just say right here and now, from tragic, tragic past experience mind you, that as long as someone is tempted by this their productivity will be lower than a mole's burrow in the nocturnal district."

"I'm also assuming that it's something to laugh about," Ramsey muttered condescendingly, his eyes widening as he realised that the others had heard him. He looked down at Tattletail, ready to pull back or to apologise, only to look on gobsmacked at the rodent's massive grin and low chuckle.

"Let me help you there," Nick muttered as he jumped up onto the table and, grabbing the mule's head and manually tilting it hard to its side (so that it mirrored the classic canine expression of curiosity) where it stayed, signalling out its owner's confusion far more effectively than it had done before. Finally, as Nick settled back down, Tattletail broke the silence.

"Thank you, mate," he said in complete sincerity. "I was wondering when one of you would get the primary motive for my work. I think I'm gonna like you more than I was expecting." Ramsey just looked on silently, rubbing the stubble on his chin with his hoof as Tattletail turned back to the schematics and picked up where he had previously let off, the point of his tail landing squarely on specific part of the plans. "Once compromising, and associated laughing, is complete, I'll make my way into the ventilation system via this grate."

"So, we'll be using the ventilation system for the liberation stage?" Ramsay asked, smiling as Tattletail nodded in response.

"Indeed. This isn't a bank or anything, so they have no barriers or security features in the vents, bar of course an odd camera which will already be disable, meaning it's fair game for me. I've already prepared an access point from the multi-storey carpark next door. By tomorrow, we'll have a nice level road winding from there to inside the store-room."

"Sounds like you plan to drive our new little friends out," Nick joked, before raising his eye slightly at the smirking rodent in front of him.

"About that… I may need you to lift up an electric class four sized van up into said access points."

"So…" Ramsay began again, "I'm assuming you want me in the room in question, ready to lift up the occupants into the vents."

"Hole in one," Tattletail responded, "just slot them in there as soon as you can and get out, do your shift as normal and, by the time you leave in the morning, I'll have got everything to the pickup point."

"Now this is where Raymond and I will step in," Nick announced out loud, instantly becoming the centre of the conversation as befitted him. "Raymond's refrigerated Limo, supplied by a generous benefactor for the night, will be the perfect way of getting from the hospital to the docks. I'll help him load up. we'll drive out and then be ready to leave with our new friends in the morning."

"So now I know why I am needed," the Polar Bear huffed slightly, "I was looking forward to beating meek Prey up."

"Raymond…" Nick tutted, the disappointment in his voice palpable. "Please, not in front of our brothers in arms."

"Don't worry," Tattle-tail shrugged. "I'd be willing to take on a big block headed polar bear like that."

"You do know my collar is fixed," Raymond shot out nonchalantly, before raising his eyebrows at the small Rodent's snickering.

"Good. It'll make any potential sparring actually interesting."

"Have you got death wish, crazy rat?"

There was a pause as Tattletail's eyes went wide at the remark, before he scowled and looked up at Raymond with a death glare so intense that the larger predator flinched back in fear. "The next person who dares call me Rat, or Ratty, or any other name that suggests I'm one of those generic rodent types" he growled out menacingly, "will be subjected to a personally tailored worst nightmare where they will see all their dreams and hopes die as I personally ensure that they're subjected to a killer dose of horrific irony and turned into their worst… worst… fears! You got me?"

"Guys?" Nick said softly, shaking his head at the two simmering mammals in front of him. "I'd sure like to see a battle between you two, but after the job please. Anyway, Raymond and I will do the stuff by the boat and then part ways. We'll be leaving midday, whether or not our mule friends have arrived or not. So please, pack your things before hand and get there early."

"That I will," Ramsey agreed, before scowling slightly and looking down at the snickering Water-Vole below him. "What now?"

"You know, Hybrids get a lot of unfair flak but it isn't the real reason you're going, is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh yes you do. Slick does too, so he shouldn't need to worry about you getting there on time. I'd have thought that with your gambling debts to the Big's, you'd be on that boat by yesterday if you could!"

The Mules eyes went wide with shock, the visual indicator more than enough to send the rodent into a fit of laughter. Even Raymond couldn't help but giggle, as he realised just what a mess his new comrade was in. While rumours of what his mafia had done to the Bigs were highly inaccurate, he'd had run ins with them in the past and new that their small stature hid a terrifying modus operandi. The short of it was that fleeing to a predator only island, even if the Tame collars were actually needed for pred and prey to safely coexist, was the vastly preferable option to being hopelessly in their debt. For the moment however Ramsey just stewed in his own juices. All three of his brothers had borrowed from the crime lord, and they'd been paying attention. They knew that this story didn't have a happy ending and, while they hadn't said it to Nick, it had been one of their key motivations for picking up on the deal. Finally, as even the Fox himself began to snicker, Ramsey slammed his hooves onto the table and shouted out. "OK, Laugh at the idiot! But could we move onto something else, PLEASE?"

"I don't… I don't think we've…" Raymond began say between his giggles, "we've got… HA HA! YOU MORON! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Ramsey just settled down and grumbled, his arms shaking with the table due to Raymonds outburst of humour. At least the mule could get some schadenfreude from Tattletail, who was now writhing on the floor due to the table quake and struggling to get back up. The humour at his expense carried on for at least a minute until, finally, it settled down.

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"We do, actually, have some other things to discuss," Nick announced, as the rest of the table quietened down to listen. "Number one on our agenda is our informant in the ZPD, who says that a new investigator, despite his best efforts at installing the standard sense of apathy and hopelessness, has caught onto our paper trail. Unfortunately, I know who this individual is, and I know that she's got enough energy to put her Duracell and Energizer using brethren to shame…"

"What, this investigator is Bunny?" Raymond asked, his eyes widening as he spotted Nick's nodding.

"Do not let her looks deceive you," Nick grimly announced. "That's no ordinary rabbit, it's the most foul, cruel bad-tempered rodent…"

"Oi!" Tattletail yelled, "that's both speciesist and inacurate!"

"… Lagomorph you ever set eyes on. It's got a vicious streak a mile wide!"

"I could kill it," Raymond offered, to which Nick shook his head in disagreement.

"I don't want blood on any of our hands this soon. Besides, in such a battle you'd be hopelessly outclassed. Trust me, I've looked up her record. Her only vulnerability is her own righteousness, you need to attack her in a civil fashion and verbally confuse her to such a degree that she's temporarily immobilised."

"You're saying hustle her, you show off," Tattletail grunted, before rolling his eyes at Nick's over the top wink and double thumbs up in response.

"Exactly, MAXIMUM hustle her… and after she caught onto my friend Smokey's good work, we were able to set up a rather interesting encounter which I believe will permanently damage her sanity."

"Can I join in?" Raymond enquired.

Nick paused, thinking about it, before asking the Bear some questions. "OK, can you refrain from touching or harming little miss cinnamon bun?"

"… I guess so. Oh-key Doh-key…"

"That answers my second question."

"Which was?"

"How over the top can you make your accent?"

"I no understand…"

"Excellent work Ray, just keep that up. I'm sure you'll understand when you get there." The smiling Fox paused for a bit, before sighing. "It's a shame, if Finnick was over here, I could have him coming over as well…"

"Anything else," a rather confused Ramsay asked. The room was quiet for a second, before Nick snapped his fingers with realisation and turned to Tattletail.

"Mr T?"

"Yeh…"

"I'll need your help in, uh…" Nick said before pausing, holding his fingers out and counting off of them as he spoke. "One, two, four… ten days."

"What are you planning?" the rodent sighed, getting an increasingly worried feeling as he watched Nick's smugness increase to dangerous levels.

"Nothing much," Nick replied with an innocent shrug. "I just need you to deactivate some security systems and such…"

"What are you planning!?" he repeated, louder this time and a distinctive edge to his voice.

"Oh, nothing evil," Nick said dismissively, "just kidnapping some Orphans."

There was a second pause, before Tattletail smiled. "Oh goody! I haven't done that in ages!"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

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_Judy’s Diary. 1.04.16._

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Gazpacho soup night with the officers, need to make a stellar impression. DON’T FORGET…

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This is the most humiliating day of my life, I’ve never been more embarrassed than this…

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I’m just going to cry for the next few hours.

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Tomorrow can’t get any worse, right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share and Enjoy.
> 
> https://youtu.be/G7m6ERsVoTM?t=94


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

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  _Judy’s ~~Diary~~ ~~Journal~~. **WTF, it’s a Diary now!** 2.04.16._

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Right, first things first, all throughout my training at the academy I was taught everything possible. Everything to protect myself in the field. To deal with disasters and crises. To overcome every eventuality that might be thrown my way. They even gave me some advice on how to lick my superior’s hooves and jiggy up the career ladder….

I was taught everything…

Everything except the fact that GEZPCHO SOUP IS SERVED COLD!!!!

COULD THEY HAVE JUST TOLD ME THAT ONCE!?

Dear god, all my effort. All my hard-won effort to prove to them that I’m not some dumb, dumb Bunny.

And what do I do?

I tell the waiter to go back and heat up my soup. I sat there, eating piping hot soup while the superiors LAUGHED AT ME! I thought it was at the chef but no, it was at me!

And I just bet that someone like Bogo will be looking for someone to promote in a few years’ times and he won’t even consider me, seeing as I’m just a dumb carrot farming bunny who doesn’t know that Gazpacho soup is served cold. This has to be the definitive low point of my career, if not my life…

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Ah crap. I called this a Diary, didn’t I? it’s not a Diary, it’s a journal…

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Fixed that, now back to yesterday?

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Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

Wait. Not enough h’s on that Ugh to really convey my feelings at the moment.

If my algebra serves me right, Ug*(h*10^(10^100)) should suffice. This feels like a sufficiently appropriate time to drop a googolplex into casual ~~conversation~~ ~~writing~~ diary entries.

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Anyway, thought I’d just put in the above to make my future self, that lucky bunny, remember what I was going through. I mean, even now it doesn’t come close to fully expressing the level or magnitude of the sigh I did. Is there even a measurement, or scale, for sighs like the Richter scale? If not, why not?

Why isn’t this a thing?

What would it even be called?

If someone does invent it, why not name it after me? Well, the Judy scale sounds a bit odd. Hopps scale?

Sounds like something you use to measure out beer ingredients.

Laverne scale sounds good though. Well, on the Laverne scale, that doozy was a real, real biggun. Right up at 11.

And let’s make the scale logarithmic, just to really show how powerful it was…

I mean, it was loud enough to get Bucky and Pronk next door bickering. Though, in hindsight, what isn’t? Here are some classic things that they’ve argued about in the past which I, with my super sensitive Bunny hearing, have had to endure.

  * How quiet they should be. I mean literally shouting out and aloud about whether they should be whispering and murmuring in order to help the Bunny next door, aka ME, to get to sleep. Evidently not seeing the forest for the trees, they then went on to argue about the definition of those two words. Which one was louder. Which one was quieter. Which one was more polite, or would be better suited for use in a library, which was more poetic etc.
  * Whether or not I was cooking carrots or not. I put a carrots’ for one in the microwave, they heard the ‘ping’ and, as a conciliation for finding the inedible insult to the worlds greatest vegetable inside, I received an hour long debate on my culinary habits. Bucky (I think it was Bucky (by this stage, I’ve come to associate their voices as more of a featureless white noise than anything else, and have dissociated them from their mammalian sources)) maintained that I’d had carrots for the last two weeks (how dare he, the speciesist fog horn, I distinctly remember having some alfalfa last Monday) and thus I’d be having the same. Pronk said he couldn’t be sure (he was wrong for the right reasons) and so, I was able to enjoy a world class discussion for what seemed like hours. About forty minutes in I explained it to them and tried to expand their knowledge on the subject, before asking them to quieten down. Sweet cheese and crackers the one who was right started bragging and then they got into a whole other argument.
  * Then there was the debate over whether they’d pick up orders from Gideon’s bakery or not. That little plot of mine seemed to backfire pretty spectacularly. Firstly, they loudly thanked me for it, the shock sending me scribbling along my paper (a very important work document mind you) with my pen, but they then had a ten minute ‘ex-cusion’ (I’m planning on submitting that word to the Cocksford Dictionary) on whether or not it meant that I was OK with them being loud, one of them actually asking if I’d like them to be louder! Thinking back, shouting ‘what do you think?’ was probably one of my all-time worst moves.
  * Next, after eating the Pie (which only seemed to make them more excitable!) they discussed whether or not they should pick up extra orders or not. And thank my lucky stars, that little one was still going on by 4AM IN THE MORNING! AHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’M REROUTING MY SPARE TIME TO LOOK THROUGH NOISE REGS! I’M JUST HOPING THAT SOMETHING SIMILAR TO THE HOWLING REGULATIONS COMES UP AND WE CAN LIMIT THEM TO ONE HOUR A DAY! I’M EVEN WRITING IN CAPITALS BECAUSE I’M SO MAD! Ughhh. Well, on a side note I got an email from Gideon thanking me, saying that he’d be delivering orders weekly (in fact, I think one is booked for tonight).
  * Let us not forget the great debate of the age. The correct way to pronounce….. _(drumroll please)_ ‘Scone!’ Anyway, it turns out that Bucky (or Pronk (I don’t give a shizzle anymore about which is which)) brought some biscuits, and wanted to have them with jam. The other one said that biscuits with jam sounded disgusting. Number one said that Avarians thought we were disgusting having them with gravy and so it didn’t make any sense to make a fuss. Number two said he didn’t want any biscuits without gravy, and number one suggested that he called it a scone (rhyming with own) like the Avarians do instead to make himself feel better. Number two then said that he thought it was pronounced scone (rhyming with on). Cue a FOUR HOUR heated debate, where they discussed how Avarians pronounced a’s (e.g. in glass, falcon, bath, brass etc…) I’m pretty sure half the city heard one of them shouting out, ‘THEY PRONOUNCE IT ALL LIKE ARSE!’.
  * And of course, we have the B&P decay model. A recent creation of mine, which postulates that all discussions, however large or small, by the two next door will devolve into mindless SHUT UP! NO YOU SHUT UP! NO YOU SHUT UP! exchanges given enough time. I’m literally at my wits end here. I can’t handle much more of this living arrangement and have already made my intention to depart when the lease is up quite clear to the landlady. I can think of no mammal who’s sanity can survive in this building, yet alone right next door to those two. (Well, their next door neighbour is this deaf Hippo, so I suppose that helps a bit). Anyway, I think I might go into academia. Write a paper on the B&P decay model and publish it…



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Well, looking back, I can say that any pretence of this staying a professional journal is gone. This is now a diary! A DIARY! ARE YOU HAPPY N….

YES PRONK, I AM ANNOYED RIGHT NOW! I’M SO MAD I’M SCRIBBLING THIS ALL DOWN IN BLOCK CAPS! THANKS FOR PICKING UP ON THAT FROM THE LOUD SOUND OF MY PENWORK! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

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OK.

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OK Judy, deep breathes. Write it out too, it helps you calm down…

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Deep breathes, one two three. One two three.

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Soft bunny, warm bunny little ball of fur…

Happy bunny, sleepy bunny…

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YES I KNOW BUCKY! RABBITS DON’T PURR! THANKS FOR RUINING THAT MOMENT!

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Oh sweet cheese and crackers, I shouted that out loud and he hasn’t picked up on the concept of sarcasm. He actually said you’re welcome…

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And the other one has just pointed that out.

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And now they’re arguing………

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Am I doing something evil to deserve this? I am some supporter of an evil injustice or regime or what?

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Maybe…

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Never mind, never mind, silly thought. I think it’s more important to think about ways of getting back at them, or at least profiting from them. Maybe record their conversations and put a highlight reel or a remix up on ewe-tube?

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 Anyway, I have to smarted up. Mr Grizzleworth’s two contacts are coming over. They should be due here any minute, and I want to be at least presentable. I want to enjoy a constructive, thought provoking discussion for a chang__________.

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Something just hit the building… Something big. As you can see from above, my pen slid across and slurred some of my words. That’s not going to look…

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Wait…

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Something's seriously wrong…

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OH MY GOD!

BUCKY AND PRONK ARE QUIET!

I’M GOING TO PUT ON THE VOICE TO TEXT TRANSCRIBER, TO RECORD THIS MOMENTUS OCCASION!

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…..

…..

“Hey future Judy, this is past Judy here. Do you hear that?”

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“Silence, blissful…”

“BUCKY! WHY ARE THERE TWO VULTURES OUTSIDED OUR WINDOW?”

“OH, I DON’T KNOW? WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?”

“I THOUGH YOU’D KNOW!”

“WHY WOULD YOU THINK I’D KNOW?”

“I DON’T KNOW?”

“Oi! Yow two! Shut yer cakehole un spake normalloi…”

“YOU CAN TALK, WHAT LANGUAGE ARE YOU SPEAKING?”

“Sid n’ I spek English yow…”

“THAT’S NOT ENGLISH?”

“MAYBE IT’S AVARIAN ENGLISH…”

“BIRDS DON’T SPEAK LIKE THAT…”

“THESE ONES DO…”

“STOP BEING A SMART ARSE…”

“OH, SHUT UP!”

“NO, YOU SHUT UP!”

“NO, YOU SHUT UP!”

“Listen! If yow wont mind, we ‘av a cute Bunny we need to find in a jiffy…”

“YOU CAN’T CALL A BUNNY CUTE!”

“YOU CALLED HER CUTE THREE TIMES YESTERDAY!”

“SAYS YOU, I SWEAR…”

**_KNOCK…KNOCK…KNOCK…_ **

“Sawry ay’m awful late, thay …uhh traffic in were terrible.”

“PRONK, IT’S THE PIE FOX!”

“Fox Pie? I’d wommuck that…”

“IT’S A FOX WHO WE BUY PIES FROM, BIRDS…”

“How reasty ar those pie’s?”

“… Uh… Y’all don’t mighty put yeast in pie.”

“Tis all bit of a mucker right now, speaking through tis windoe… Can Bob un I come in?”

“PRONK, THE VULTURES WANT TO COME IN!”

“WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT?”

“SHALL WE LET THEM IN OR NOT?”

“Do y'all want y'all's pie aw nahwt…? Also, there’s ayy polar bear behaand me…”

“I am here for meeting.”

“OH, COME ON ALL IN. COME ON IN VULTURES, COME ON IN PREDS…….WAIT, I WAS BEING SARCASTIC!”

“OH, YOU GET SARCASM THIS TIME PRONK!”

“DON’T GO THERE! IT’S TOO LATE NOW. I’M SURROUNDED BY A REDNECK FOX, A POLAR BEAR WITH A RUSSIAN ACCENT WHO SPEAKS IN BROKEN ENLGISH…”

“Is hard, but I try… yes.”

“AND TWO VULTURES WHO SPEAK… WHAT DO YOU SPEAK?”

“English…”

“Yup, Blackboid countroi born n’ bred…”

“SO WAIT, YOU ARE AVARIAN…”

“WE ALREADY AGREED ON THAT!”

“NO WE DIDN’T”

“YES WE DID!”

“My instruction to arrive here by big boss, it makes sense now…”

“WHAT WAS THAT MR POLAR BEAR?”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE! I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S HERE FOR…”

“WHAT, I CAN’T ASK HIM? JUST BECAUSE WE’RE THE ONLY TWO HERE WITHOUT AN UNUSUAL SPEECH PATTERN?”

“WELL, I AM! YOU’RE LOUD!”

“NO, YOU’RE LOUD!”

“NO, YOU’RE LOUD!”

“Ay have y'all's pecan ayn' cherry pie here, ay'll just put it down ayn' um… go…”

“BUCKY, YOU’RE SCARING OFF OUR FOX FRIEND!”

“NO, YOU’RE SCARING HIM OFF!”

“WHAT DO I CARE, WE’VE GOT A POLAR BEAR NOW. HAVEN’T WE?”

….

“Yes… this… is nice…. I think.”

…

“Not. Is not nice… I am confused now,  again… What you make of this, Fox of Pie?”

“Well, we’ve got um two Buzzards’ hyar speakin’ in tongues. Ah reckon it’s all fine n’ dandy t’be confused…

“Who yow callin Buzoids!?”

“I uh… Ah’s not a mighty fine bird spotter.”

“Arm gewin too improv’ tat. Yow’ll know more than just summit like the difference between a pidgin un a chookoi in a jiffy…”

“Can I get translation, please? Russian is most welcome…”

“YES, PLEASE! CAN WE HAVE A…”

“HOW DO YOU PRONOUNCE SCONE!?”

“…BUCKY!”

“WHAT, WE DIDN’T SETTLED THIS!”

“THEY’RE FROM AVARIA!”

“THAT’S DEBATABLE…”

“Oi Yow! Shut yer trap!”

“PRONK, YOU’RE ANNOYING THE VULTURES!”

“It’s scone, rhyming with stone…”

“Or yow cud say scone rhyming with on, if yam all la-de-da loik…”

“I will go now, I find this confusing.”

“Ah was so’t of reckoning th’ same thin’.”

“You just as bad, hillbilly Fox with pie and moron haircut look like bow wave of ship or spread bottom… sometimes I don’t know why I not go back to only speaking mother Russian?”

“Aww Geeze… Thet's th' nicess thin' ev'ryones ev'ry said about mah speech un mah ‘air, thankyo’.”

“Listen yow mammals, this is a bostin meeting, balaberen ‘bout. But we were looking for a Bunny, yow barmpots!”

“I THINK I JUST HEARD HER SMASH HER DOOR AND LEAVE!”

“YEH, I’M PRETTY SURE I HEARD HER CRYING AND PLEADING FOR HER SANITY OR…”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS ‘IN MEMORY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE’”

“IT MUST BE EAR ACHE. SHE GETS THAT A LOT, I DON’T KNOW WHY BUT…”

“Sid an I am getting a smidgin of an airk.”

“Ah do tend t'git it aroun' these two too.”

“I get that too, now… Is not nice, is it?”

“BUCKY, WHY DO WE HAVE TWO VULTURES, A HILLBILLY FOX AND A RUSSIAN POLARBEAR IN OUR APARTMENT?”

OH, IT’S MY FAULT NOW!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

“NO, YOU SHUT UP!”

“NO, YOU SHUT UP!”

“Vint eto, ya otsutstvuyu”

“Bob, wanna leave these blobmouths an get um smidgin of fettle?”

“Ar, arm killin’ for…”

“Kin ah join yo’ fo’ sumpin?”

“Food would be nice at current moment in time, yes!”

“OH WHY DON’T YOU FOUR…”

“I’D LIKE FOOD TOO PRONK, YOU’RE THE ONE WHO LIKES THE PIES!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

“NO YOU SHUT UP!”

“LISTEN! WHY DON’T WE ALL SHOUT OUT WHAT WE’D LIKE TO EAT AT THE SAME TIME! WOULD THAT MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY? I DON’T CARE. GOING ON ONE, TWO, THREE….”

.

.

* * *

 

WIN-DOES SPEECH-TEXT VERSION 3.75 HAS ENCOUNTERED AN ERROR AND HAS SHUT DOWN.

THE PROBLEM SEEMS TO BE CAUSED BY AN INSURMOUNTABLE CORRUPTION OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

If this is the first time you’ve seen this stop error screen, restart your device. If this screen appears again, follow these steps:

Check to make sure any new hardware or software is properly installed.

If this is a new installation, ask your hardware of software manufacturer for any updates you may need.

If problems continue, disable BIOS memory options such as caching or shadowing. If you need to use safe mode to remove or disable components, take your device into a qualified specialist. To avoid further deterioration, make sure to limit contact to persons of specific ineligible regional dialects…

* * *

 

.

.

P.S/ edit:

This is Judy again. Not sure if I’ll be able to recover a transcript of _the event_ from the crispy ruins of my speech transcriber, not even sure if I’ll put it all in my diary at a later date if I can. But, after all that, I’m closing said line of investigation for the sake of my sanity.

I may also take some time to mourn the English language and go on a long, long, long, looooooonnnnnnnnnngggggggggggg holiday…

.

J Hopps, signing off.


	20. Chapter 20

**April _1994_**

.

"So why do I have to be here again?"

"Because I want a Fox to help me, and I'd prefer to keep my sanity, so your father is ruled out."

I flinched back at Al's gruff response, although I was at least old enough to pick up the flick of humour in his voice. A flicker, at least… hopefully. I didn't want Al and Dad falling out, but I knew that Pap's enjoyed winding up the big wolf, so I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't the best of friends. Still, Al could do with getting a sense of humour and a bit of patience. My Pap's was fantastic in every way and without fault! Al just needed to adjust a bit, and then all would be fine and dandy.

It was in the middle of spring now, the air was warm and dry while my coat had shed down all its winter fur, becoming short and stubbly rather than the crazy fluffiness I'd had earlier in the year. Everyone had been busy too, with the new row of houses being built behind our first one for both the arrivals who'd come with Dad, and the ones he planned to bring in later this year. Al, as usual, had been working hard in supervising the new buildings. They all had indoor toilets you could get to without going outside (which we'd slowly added to the original ones, thank the Gods) and, although they weren't flushing toilets, every home now had a sink and running water for washing your hands. Al had dammed up the spring we'd previously used for drinking water and got the water running through pipes so that it reached our homes. Everyone would have a garden tap and a working sink in their kitchen and bathroom. We'd also got electric wiring with lights and plug sockets in place for when we got electricity. We even got a little electric water heater the size of a shoebox, just like the ones you found in some shop bathrooms, which would give us hot water in our homes. Back when I was helping him with some of that work I'd asked him about putting in proper toilets that flushed, rather than using soil which we had to empty each week, but he then asked me what we'd do with the bad water once we'd flushed.

.

"It would go through sewer pipes," I'd replied, only to cock my head to the side at Al's strange look.

"And who would want to spend ages tearing up the roads and their floors to put those in?" he'd asked.

I shrugged, remembering that we had better things to do. "But still…" I began, only to see him sighing again.

"And what would we do with the filthy water? The stuff from the sink is clean enough to go through the gutters and into the soakaway's. Now… I don't think we want water from a toilet going into our bay, do we?"

"No…" I muttered, remembering the times last summer when I'd gone swimming in the bay, and how disgusting something like raw sewage leaking into it might be.

"Exactly," the Wolf had replied, before getting back to whatever he'd been doing at the time, adding a quick addendum to the end. "… And despite your fathers insistent begging, I A: don't know how to build a sewage treatment plant and B: don't think it'll be relatively easy. Though should we eventually be able to procure one, I have at least designed the roads and houses so installing the pipework and all shouldn't be that hard…"

.

Back to the present, and of course the new electric stuff meant that we would be getting electricity! We'd had generators before for the cookers in the kitchens, but on the last boat over we'd brought some water turbines and generators, which we'd be using from now on instead. It had been Al's big project for the year, and what I was working with him on.

Down by the base of the cliffs, which were three or four times higher than the town hall tower, Al and his men had sealed up the front of a cave that lay just above the tide line. After almost blocking up the front with lots of sand, cement and rubble, he and some of the larger mammals had carried the turbines in and begun their tinkering. Each one of the things, which looked like giant snail shells and were made from cold hard metal painted blue, was larger than me and took several big mammals to move about into position, perched on top of large brick plinths that raised them off the floor. The old pebbly floor of the cave itself had been replaced with flat concrete which they'd poured in, although big iron pipes were attached to the turbines to both bring in and remove water, the latter ones leaving the cave by running through channels that burrowed through the floor, then tunnelling through the wall and pouring out into the sea. The electricity cables had also been attached and snaked up the cliff to the village up above, different ones having different colours and all thicker than my arm.

Up at the top of the cliff, others had been at work too. The two streams that flowed to the east and west of our village were now in big wide stone channels that had been carefully built to both look nice and to direct the flow down the mountain nice and strait, keeping it all in even when it rained down hard and they flooded. Eventually the streams, rather than pouring over the cliff as two waterfalls like they used to, flowed into a great pool that had been dug out with the diggers just below the bathhouses, right above the cliff itself. Above the sloshing of the waves and sounds of Al tinkering with his generators, the roaring of the water overflowing from there and crashing down into the sea was the loudest sound around, echoing around the cave so loud that you could barely hear yourself think. But soon, hopefully, some of that water would be flowing down into the turbines instead and electricity would be coming out.

.

"How much electricity will we make?" I asked out of boredom, as I paced back and forth along the cold floor. Despite saying he was almost done many, many times for what seemed like hours, the end still seemed nowhere in sight and so I was doing everything in my power to stop myself becoming too bored. The entire room was cold, damp, chilly and very loud, so none of my friends wanted to be here. At the same time, I'd bounced and kicked the one stone I'd found around so much that it eventually broke into pieces. I wasn't expecting a reply from Al, rather just speaking out loud out of boredom, so my ears pricked as I heard him hum in a warm, friendly way, before he began speaking.

"Do you know how energy works, Nick?"

"No," I said, shrugging as I did so. "Is it important…"

The big wolf groaned slightly, before continuing with both his work and his explanation. "Well, if my half-remembered days from crappy high-school physics lessons, and multiple nights reading old textbooks in the town library can be trusted, you can't create energy. We have to take it from other places, gathering it up for use. For heating, we've taken the energy plants took from the sun and stored in their trunks and wood, releasing it by burning it. For electricity, however, we're going to harness the energy usually wasted by the water falling down the cliff." He paused, looking at me with a smile on his face, before asking me a question. "You're a clever Fox, so… What do you think limits how much energy we can make from the water?"

I paused to think, looking up at the cold grey cave roof as if it held the answers. I couldn't help but curse the stupid teachers in Zootopia yet again for not teaching us the important, useful stuff we needed, rather than running cooking lesson after cooking lesson on how to make the best grass soup or something. Yes, I got it that it was the cheapest, simplest thing to make that most mammals liked, but no Predators liked it! They did show us how to bake a cake once though, so at least…

"Need a paw, Nick?"

"Just let me think for a sec!" I shouted back over the roar of the nearby waterfall before turning back to think. I tried to focus on the question, but it was impossible with the noise from outside. I couldn't help but get distracted, thinking about how all that water was making such an awful racket…

My eyes suddenly widened with the realisation and, as I turned back to face Al, I had a huge smile on my face. "How much there is I guess?"

"Yup," Al replied, "and?"

"Uhhh…." I began to say, before my mind completely blanked. Unable to think of anything, I huffed with defeat, kicking the floor as I shook my head in frustration. "Why don't they teach this in school!?" I shouted out to Al, my paws out as I did so. "Why don't they ever teach us the important stuff!?"

"If you'd stayed on for four or six years, they would have. Or at least I think so, I can't quite remember. Must be concussion from all the paper plane impacts," Al muttered back. I couldn't help but notice the small grin he had on his muzzle, which only grew as he continued. "Whether or not you would have paid attention, however, is a different matter."

"Hey!"

The big wolf turned away, chuckling, before continuing with his work. "Well, you're right in that the water flow is important. Last summer, I had some kids measure it…"

"Yeh, I remember that," I replied, remembering how we'd all gathered up one day to measure how fast the water was flowing with tape measures, bits of fruit and stopwatches. Apparently, it was something that we'd all have done later for geography lessons, so I couldn't really complain about the schools not teaching us the important stuff there.

"From the size of the stream and how fast it flows, we can work out how much water comes down the mountain every second. We found that both streams, and in high summer they're at their lowest mind you, have a combined flow at about one metre cubed per second. That means we can funnel enough water to fill a cube that's a meter wide, deep and tall every second."

"OK," I replied back, now curious enough to tilt my head to the side. "What next? Do we need to work out how heavy the water is?"

A small smile grew on the Wolf's face as he nodded, before holding his paw out, pads up, and waving his fingers as if waiting for something. Knowing what he wanted, I hopped onto my feet and grabbed a huge wrench from a nearby tool box, struggling to pick it up and move it over before dropping it in his paws. He took it like it weighed nothing and carried on talking.

"That is very good, the heavier something is the more energy we can get from it as it falls. But we know how much water weighs. One meter cubed weighs a thousand Kilo's, or one tonne."

"What about how far it drops?" I asked, thinking of it on the spur of the moment. I paused, only to smile again and wag my tail as the big wolf nodded again, showing I'd got something else right.

"Yep. Double the height, and you could put two generators on top of each other, using the same water one after the other. Or, of course, just have one at the bottom that generates twice as much power. Now, we've got a thirty metre drop from the sluices to the turbines, and with that we can work out how much power we can generate."

"And how can we do that," I asked, as the Wolf began messing with the big electricity cables to the first generator.

"Well, it does involve…." Al began to say, before trailing his voice off and chuckling like an evil villain about to reveal his plan for world domination. "MATH!"

.

.

.

"Fair 'nuff," I replied, as his crazy posture relaxed into something that looked more disappointed than anything else.

"Spoilsport," he muttered before carrying on explaining. "Anyway, you first need to know the difference between a force, energy and power. A force is how hard you push of pull something."

"I know that."

"Good. Now energy is the force applied to move an object over a certain distance while power is the amount of energy you're applying every second. Got that?"

"Uh, yeh." I replied, half telling the truth and half lying, before pausing to think about what this all meant, narrating it to Al as I did so. "So… if we have a tonne a second falling thirty metres, do we get thirty…. energy….?"

I scowled as I heard the big wolf chuckling, knowing full well that I'd gotten it quite wrong. Grumbling, I stood up to stretch my legs as he carried on.

"Not quite, the mass of an object isn't a force. The force of gravity is what we're harnessing. You know that something on the moon falls slower than it does on earth right?"

"Yeh," I replied. "Isn't that why they banned kangaroo astronauts, to stop them accidentally jumping into orbit?"

Al chuckled slightly for some reason, something I assumed was due to me getting something wrong again (and was rather annoyed about it). "I'm not sure I've heard that one before. Anyway, on earth gravity pulls with a force of about ten newtons for every kilogram something weighs, so ten-thousand newtons for a tonne of water. Got it so far?"

I blinked a few times, thinking it over before slowly nodding as Al carried on.

"Right, over a thirty metre drop, and you got this bit right, that works out to three-hundred thousand joules of energy per tonne of water. And, just as you said, we've got one tonne a second so that works out to three-hundred thousand watts of energy. Or three hundred kilowatts. They do it at about eighty percent efficiency, but that loss should be countered out thanks to the extra flow we got diverting a third stream further up the mountain. Finally, each of these four turbines can generate one third that, so we can manage just fine if one breaks."

"And is that a lot?" I asked, still not knowing what three hundred kilowatts meant for me.

"Well," Al said, shaking his head about with thought as he did so. "I think I read something about each of the power stations in the reactor caves producing about four-thousand times that, but more than half of their energy goes on the climate systems. As for us? Well… an old-fashioned lightbulb uses about sixty watts, though we're using these new types that use twenty watts even though they're more expensive, since they last longer…"

"So… we could run…" I said as I worked out the figures in my head, "fifteen-thousand lightbulbs?"

"Sounds about right," Al replied, as I felt a warm flush of pride roll over me from being right. "But, there are other things we'll be using electricity for too. The little electric water heaters, they use three kilowatts when on full. So, we can only run about a hundred of them. Good thing that people will tend to have them off almost all the time."

"So, heating stuff takes lots of energy?" I thought out loud, noticing the huge difference and happy to see Al nodding in return.

"Water, it seems, much more than air," he replied. "While they take more energy to warm up, cooking with one of the ovens, even with all the grills and hobs on mind you, uses about half that."

"What about an electric fan heater," I asked, remembering the new ones I'd seen at Finnick's.

"About the same as the electric water heaters," Al murmured. "Which is why only mammals that really don't do well in the cold get them. We get thick winter coats, so we can make do with fires and blankets. Now maybe next summer I'll use the boiler I used for the bath houses right now for central heating, but that's a big if... We'll need lots more copper pipes and stuff for that, along with all sorts of other bits and bobs."

"What will you use for the baths then?" I asked curiously. Ashamed as I was to say it, I'd gotten to really enjoy long hot baths (along with both the drying and preening that came after).

"Well," Al huffed. "Do you know about the difference between volts and amps?"

"No…"

"Well," Al began to explain, as I settled in to listen. "Think about this turbine. If we had twice as much water coming down, we could generate twice as much energy. And if we doubled the height it dropped we could also generate twice as much energy. Electricity is very similar. If you double the current, you're doubling the flow. If my C grade, C plus mind you, in high school physics serves me well, that stuff is measured in amps. As for the height, that's the P.D, which is measured in volts…"

"Why is the interesting stuff in school taught AFTER all the boring stuff?" I shouted out into the air, my arms flailing about as I spoke. "Why not put it before you lose interest?"

"That's a question for the ages," Al tutted to himself. "Anyway, most electronics require the volts to stay at the same level. Two-forty volts for things we use at home. That way, you just generate enough energy and the required current flows to the things that need it. But, if you generate too much or too little energy, the volt level can go up or down."

"Is that bad?"

"If it goes down, most basic things will still work, but less well. Dimmer lights while things like TV's or computers will turn off. And if it goes too high then…"

"KABOOM!" I shouted out, leaping and spreading my arms out wide as I did so. I paused as I spotted Al looking at me, chuckling slightly in a way I didn't know if I liked or not.

"Sometimes…" he muttered. "So, what we have is a machine attached to each of the generators which will turn the turbines up and down when needed. If we upgrade the bath houses, however, then instead of turning down the turbines, we'll turn up the electric boiler in them. Mostly during night and such… It'll be big enough to hold a weeks' worth of hot water, so it doesn't matter if it's off a lot, we'll still have plenty of hot water."

"Wow…" was all I could mutter. "You may be even smarter than my Pap's."

"Oh really," the Wolf replied, swinging out the words as he did so. "It took you that long to notice?"

I scowled slightly, before deciding to get my own back. "What's the bias of some fabric?"

"I don't know, it depends on its upbringing doesn't it…"

"Nope! Wrong!" I shouted, grinning wildly as he showed just how little he knew. "It's the diagonal to the direction of the threads… that's basic stuff you learn about when sewing clothes! Why don't you know that? What about darning? I've been helping my Paps repair clothes by darning them for years!"

Al just shook his head and looked over at me, his eyes squinting as if he were angry but his face looking more bored than anything else. "Are you trying to attack me with questions about clothes stuff to make your Dad look cleverer?"

"Uh, YES!"

"Whether he is or not, I'm far too clever to get worked up about it," Al replied, shrugging as he did so. "So, if you're a clever Pred then you'll stop bothering me. OK?"

I scowled and grunted, turning away and kneeling down in a corner before muttering out my reply. "Okay…"

.

.

"Why DO you want a Fox down here anyway?" I asked a while later, bored again and pacing around the floor.

"Your species can see magnetism, can't it? Your Dad says it's this… blur thing you see in your eyes, am I right?"

"Yes! It's the gift from the messenger god!" I shouted back happily, giggling slightly as a for once confused Al looked back at me with his head cocking steeply to the side. Grunting, he righted his head and shook it, before twiddling some more with the generators.

"Electricity is generated by passing a wire through a magnetic field, and electricity can make magnetic fields itself. Your dad says that he can see this haze around wires when he got up close to them back in Zootopia. Can't you?"

"Uhhh yeh," I replied back, remembering the faint lines of shadows along walls and up on the high wires in the air. I fact, if I focussed in and came close, I could spot little shadows in the generators, showing that there were some magnets in them too.

"Well, there you go." Al grunted, "If this doesn't work right away, you let me see where my work's working and where it isn't without risking me getting zapped. If you remember, that's why we came to Pinehaven in the first place.

I nodded in agreement, before settling back down to wait. I thought back to the name Pinehaven, which we'd settled on earlier in the year as the name of our town. After badgering Dad for ages to come up with a proper name for it, he'd agreed to setting up a meeting with everyone. Over a day, we'd all talked with each other about what name we'd be using which was stupid, because I'd already come up with a great name. Predhaven.

A haven for Preds.

No space in the middle.

A lot of people had liked it, but didn't like the Pred bit for some reason. One of the Bears had suggested we replace Pred with Pine, given the type of trees that were nearby, and the name stuck. I'd still have the last laugh, though, seeing as I had a special secret project I was working on.

.

.

"OK Nick," Al finally shouted after what seemed like hours, "let's see what this can do!"

Standing up, he put his massive forepaws on a large valve and began turning. There was a grunt and squeal as it began to move, along with the loud hiss of the water trapped in the pipes above beginning to flow through. And then came the whirring, getting faster and faster as it went on, all while the little shadows in the generator got larger and larger, growing and pulsing more and more as the turbine below sped up. They coursed out of it, flowing up the big wire and all the way up to the town. We got some too, with a few lightbulbs that Al had put in blinking to life. After so long down here in the dark, with nothing but a sliver of light from outside and a torch (though having night vision, I wasn't complaining) I shied back from the bright lights, all while Al leapt up and shouted in joy.

"SHE RIDES! WAHOOOOOOO!"

My eyes adjusting, I jumped up and began shouting too and, above the din of the generators, the crashing of the waterfall into the ocean and the breaking waves on the beach, I was certain I could hear celebrating Predators up in the town. We kept on going, jumping and leaping and shouting, holding hands and dancing around each other, before high-fiving to our success. After a minute or so, as the adrenaline slowly began to settle down (and Al turned on two of the other three generators) he finally gave me permission to leave, which I did.

.

Getting out and up to the town, everything was a bit anticlimactic. The streetlights were off (seeing as they needed to be turned on in the town hall) as were most of the lights in people's houses. I could still see a few here and there, such as in one of the barn bits of the town hall, but even they were dull compared to the sunlight. Realising that things must be much more spectacular at night, I set off across the park (which was now covered in tall bushy grass that needed a good cut) to my home. Barging in, I hopped and skipped through the front room which was full of clothing racks and bits of material being sewed together, all bathed by light from both the windows and lights, just like it should be.

Now that we'd been here for a year, lots of clothes were beginning to wear thin or break, while the ones I was wearing had been getting tighter as I grew. That meant that Mum and Dad had gotten out all of their tailoring gear and set to work with the bolts and balls of fabric and wool we'd brought over from Zootopia, all in hundreds of different styles and types. Even I'd helped a bit, spending time knitting together jumpers and hats for Finnick's family (and on handing them over, I got him to finally promise to stop teasing me about the fact that I knew how to knit). There was always the risk that we'd run out of these though, and I guessed that eventually we would. As a result, Dad had brought over some flax seeds which he planned to plant next year, along with plans for an automatic spinning wheel and a loom. That way, he said he could turn the flax into linen, which could be used for lots of things such as shirts, underwear or sheets. For most of us, that was all we really needed seeing as we had our own fur coats that kept us dry and warm. He also said that they'd make a press which could turn our shed fur into felt, allowing us to make our own jumpers and hats for those who didn't like the cold. The only thing we couldn't make ourselves was waterproof clothing, which Dad said we'd only be able to make ourselves if we could find certain types of trees whose bark could be used. In the meantime, however, we'd just stayed in here making everyone new clothes or repairing old ones, something that I was proud to say I was getting rather good at…

"Nick! Is that you?"

My ears pricked at the sound of my mother calling and I jogged through the door to the lounge, before pausing as I saw the state she was in. Lying back in her chair, two empty bottles filled with murky vinegar lay opened on the floor, with a third standing on the little table next to her. Her paw was dripping wet with the stuff and her four claws were each dug into their own pickled onion, all fished out of the brown broth.

"Mum…." I slowly asked, my head sharply tilted to the side as I watched her slowly raise the white round balls up to her mouth and eat them whole, crunching them in her jaws and savouring their taste. "What are you doing…?"

"Cwavins…" she replied though a half full mouth. Watching her, I couldn't help but pounce on the opportunity that presented itself, so I leapt in.

"What did you tell me about speaking with my mouth full?"

"Leave me alone, Nick…" she wined, before giving me puppy dog eyes of all things as I stepped closer.

"That wasn't it, was it?" I teased, before my eyes opened as she gave me easily enough attitude to revoke any desert privileges for that night.

"Leave me aloooneee…"

To my amazement, she then raised up her paw and shoved be back, almost sending me down onto my tail. I knew that Dad had warned me about mood swings, but I wasn't expecting this!

"Can I at least rub against your tummy?" I asked, and I smiled as I saw her face light up.

"OK," she replied cautiously, "just be gentle."

Tenderly, I walked forward as she pulled up her blouse, revealing the growing bump beneath it. Slowly but surely, I rested my paws and then one of my ears on it and just rubbed and listened.

"Can you hear the heartbeat?"

"Shhhhh Mum…" I whispered, as I listened in and then heard it. Very faint, but still there, a rapid beat that drummed twice a second. I moved my ear around, backwards and forwards and up and down, listening to it fade and grow.

"How many do you think are in there?"

"I think it's only one," I replied back, still moving my ear around to see if I could hear anything else. "I mean, I think I can only make out one heartbeat, but there may be another at the back for all I know."

"Or maybe not," Mum said, sighing as she did so. "I mean, I don't know about my birth parents, given that all they gave me when they abandoned me was my first name, but larger litters, or litters at all for that matter, have tended not to run in your father's side of the family."

"Well," I said, "if you want more you'll just have to get pregnant again…." I paused, thinking about it, before realising that that was certainly something I didn't know. "How do you make…"

"You know I found your Flag!" Mum suddenly spurted out, interrupting me. I paused what I was saying and, after a few seconds of blinking at her sudden rudeness, I jumped off of her and back onto my two feet as I realised what she'd just said.

"No!" I cried out, turning to pace along the floor in disappointment. "Nooo, noo nooo!"

"What is it dear?" she asked, as I spotted her ears fold down through the corner of my eye.

"It was supposed to be a surprise!" I shouted out of sadness. "A flag for our new country! You weren't supposed to see it!"

"Well," Mum said, sounding a bit upset at what she'd done. "It's a good thing that Dad doesn't know, does he?"

"He doesn't?"

"No dear," she replied, a grin growing on her face. "And given that the concepts of tidying up and his mind have never coexisted, it's safe to say that it'll stay that way. Now, I do sort of think it's a bit unfair for you to go about designing a flag for all of us, without asking us what we want…"

"Mum…." I started to say, ready to complain.

"But I really like what you've done so far," she interrupted, before she leant down and rested her paw on my shoulder to stop and reassure me. I looked up at her warm, smiling face and I felt warm and smiled back. "So, I think I'll let it slide" she finished, before a second passed and her smile turned into _that_ smile, and then she flicked out her tongue and licked my nose. I flinched back in surprise, twitching my newly moist and cold nose a couple of times, before we both burst into a fit of giggles.

.

.

Later that night, after Al had ran all his checks on the electricity system and the sun had gone down, everyone made their way to one of the barns attached to the town hall. Chairs and beanbags were all brought out, and we all gathered together for our first movie night in over a year. While we couldn't pick up normal TV, we'd got a brand-new top of the range video-cassette player with hundreds of videos, all plugged into a massive TV and a big speaker system. It was as close to a cinema as we could get, and not one mammal young or old wanted to miss it. We'd argued about what film we wanted to see, but everyone settled for a new family movie called Allambdin which was about flying carpets and genies and stuff, which sounded epic. So, as I settled down at the front on a beanbag, we watched the title screens roll by and I got ever more excited for the film itself.

"I heard the villains a Lion in this…"

My ears pricked, and I looked over to the child next to me. She was another Red Fox kit like me, one of a litter of four whose family had come over on the second boat. Her Mum and one of her brothers had a very pretty silver coat, while her Dad was a very burly and furry Fox who had a light Red colour, something shared by her two other siblings. This Vixen however seemed to be a mix between both. Her eyes were a dark amber like my Dad's while her muzzle was very delicate like my Mum's. But what made her stand out was the long and wispy silver-white fur that covered most of her head, chest and back like a mane. By contrast, her face looked normal with her mask and the top of her muzzle orangey-red and the area around her mouth snow white. Her delicate whiskers, which she didn't cut back, made her look very graceful while her tail was long, white tipped and _very_ fluffy. I couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked…

"Yeh! You heard me you creepy Fox…"

"Hey!" I shouted back, realising the she was talking to me. "I'm not creepy…."

She snickered, blushing slightly as she turned her face away from me, taking a few nibbles from her popcorn as she did so. "Then why are you looking at me?"

"I… uh… um…" I stammered out, trying to think of something before I found something and ran with it. "I think you're very pretty…"

 _'Oh no….'_ I thought, silently cursing myself before wrapping up in my mind from embarrassment. _'I did not just say that,_ _I did not just say that, I did not just say that…'_

"You… you…"

I look up and saw her stuttering back, her eyes wide and confused as she tried to find the right words. I didn't know why, but I repeated myself even though I'd just decided that the words I'd said were the stupidest ones to ever come out of my mouth. "I think you're very pretty…"

"… Thank… thank you," she finally managed to say, as a massive smile grew on her face. "It's been a bit of a pain to keep myself looking good these last few months… I was worried I'd gone very ugly."

"I don't think someone as pretty as you can go ugly…" I said back, sending her tail wagging excitedly. I was happy to see that I was making her feel good about herself, and she looked up at me and her smile grew wider and wider. As I tugged my shirt collar, I gulped as she looked back at the TV, which was still going through the anti-piracy film (of course, showing a naughty weasel selling the counterfeits).

"Dumb prey…" she said, scowling as she did so. "Can't imagine a Prey being a bad guy or a Pred being a good guy… Although apparently the evil guys sidekick in this is a parrot…"

"Have you ever seen a bird in real life, Miss?"

"Nuh huh…" she replied, turning to look back at me. "And call me Hester."

"Hester?"

"Yeh, my name's Hester Vulpes."

"Nick Wilde," I announced, as the trailers begin to roll. "Maybe we could cheer for the bad guy…?"

"OK, Nick," she said back, before looking around and lunging forward to give a little lick on my nose. I couldn't help but jump away a bit as I felt its cold touch, and I tripped as I got up. Falling backward, I fell straight into a beanbag next to me, to the soundtrack of Hester's very loud laugh. She was still giggling as I settled back down, evidently finding my little accident very funny. Sighing, I shuffled into my seat to watch the film begin.

" _Pssst_ "

I turned to face her, and spotted her gaze directed at my bowl of deep fried cockles, my new third favourite food in the whole world.

" _Can I have some?"_ she whispered, her voice quiet as possible to not interrupt the film.

 _"Sure,"_ I whispered back, _"help yourself."_

In less than a second I realised just what a bad idea saying those two words was, because it was all it took for her to dive muzzle first in and begin gorging herself.

"HESTER!"


	21. Chapter 21

**.**

**Chapter 21:**

.

It was deep in the middle of the night, and all through Tundratown mixed species orphanage, not a mammal was stirring, not even the resident mouse.

Their stockings were lying in the sock draws, tossed in without any care, while the children hoped that the head of the Orphanage wouldn't be inspecting there.

Said children lay sleeping in their beds, bar however four very nervous Preds.

.

The four Pred children had been staying awake all night just watching their clocks, all far too excited to fall asleep, and now that the time was right they began to make their way out. Tenderly sneaking on, step by silent step, a polar bear cub, two wolf pups and a young artic fox left their rooms, carrying with them nothing but their favourite few toys or clothes, the precious items held tight to their chests. With every footstep, they gingerly tested the ground in front of them as if it were thin ice before putting their full weight on it, knowing too well how larger mammals could make the floor groan and squeak as they marched around the place without a care in the world.

The little ones' silent passage was helped by the fact that, although not underfed by any means, they were all thin and scrawny, a noticeable concave present in their figure just below their ribcage. They had always got enough food, but had never been truly doted on, spoiled or even loved by anyone in this institution, something clear from the rest of their appearance. Each had a thick muzzle clamped over their faces, the cold harsh steel cage locked in position by a tough nylon strap that was fastened tight around their heads and necks.

A small padlock at the back was sealed shut so that they couldn't remove the device, not now, not ever, all for the 'safety' of the two dozen prey mammals who also lived within these walls. The three canines especially, unable to preen themselves properly and without anyone with nearly enough time or effort to give them the right care and attention, all had shaggy fur that was unkempt and stuck out at strange angles, forever ruffled up and making them permanently look like they'd just been in a fight.

The claws of all four, instead of being long and polished, were cut back short and barely extended out of their toes and fingers, ending in dull flat stubs rather than their natural points. Their clothing too, even if it was just four pairs of pyjamas, were evidence enough of the apathy with which they'd been raised. Plain and boring, with frayed edges and the odd hole here and there, the hand-me downs were cheap all-species generics, rather than clothing properly tailored to the right body shape. One of the wolf cubs got the worst of it, his trousers ending well above his ankles while only half of his tail stuck out of the supplied hole, the rest of it bent around inside in order to actually find it.

On most days, their body language would have been the final nail in the coffin, with sagging ears and tails, slouched backs and tired, lonely eyes. Tonight, however, their eyes were alive with life for the first time in months if not years. Moving on with intently scanning ears and tails that they couldn't help but wag they knew that, if they got out of this place, they had a chance of a happy life. A life with a mother and a father, who would love them and hug them and a life without muzzles or collars. All of them hated their muzzles and all bar one hated their collars. The one exception was the largest and, by quite some margin, youngest mammal of the four. The little polar bear had only got his tame collar strapped around his neck just a week before and he was still untouched by its harsh lash. In his mind, he was still a big bear, and happy for it. Still though, he followed the others, guided by them through the darkness. The two Pups, and the little Kit especially, used their sharp night vision and any light available, be it from the tall, delicate, dusty windows or the four green pin-pricks that followed them wherever they went, to navigate through the moonlit rooms and corridors and onwards to the way out.

.

.

.

Outside, the snow fell down in thick sheets, billowing around as it tried to turn the dark blue sky white. The orange glow of lights, both from the street and houses, pierced through it and gave some illusion of warmth to the otherwise frigid scene. Any and all fine detail, from the rounded grey stonework and wide cream coloured mortar on the walls to the individual branches on the many pine trees was long since smothered into a featureless oblivion. Somewhere in the desolate whiteness, two lone figures stood and waited, overlooking the cold stone walls and iron railings that imprisoned four young Preds. The larger one, crimson red and dressed in a freshly pressed suit and with a suitcase hanging from his paw, turned to the smaller one, currently perched on what might have been a mailbox, and asked a silent question.

His companion simply nodded in return a produced a pair of scissors in his tail, swinging it around with gay abandon before tossing it up in the air and catching it deftly in his small paws. And so, together they waited and waited as the waves of fluttering flakes turned the minutes to hours, standing tall stoic and sentinel, up until the smaller one began to fidget and mess about a bit as the time went on, drawing the ire of his friend.

.

.

.

It was slow going, one foot moved forward carefully after the other as they avoided making any noises that could give themselves away. Had they been in a hurry, they knew that the journey would have taken less than a minute, but their instructions had been clear. However long it took, make no noise. No sounds. Nothing…

The excitement of before had given way to a duller tedium, with the mammals not daring to speak in even a whisper. Suddenly, one of the wolves stood on a floorboard which creaked under his weight, the sharp groan piercing the silence like a scream and echoing around the empty building for what seemed like hours. The sound, its volume practically deafening to the four, caused them to flinch down in fear, ears plastered flat against their heads as they stayed silent. There was a harsh _Beep_ , as the offending wolf's collar went orange, before he whimpered in fear. The other lupine, his eyes wide with alarm, shuffled over to hug his fellow escapee. Bringing his paw up and raising a finger to the cold steel end of his muzzle, he silently shushed him as the orange light went back down to green. They blinked before moving towards each other, trying to softly nuzzle their cheek fur against each other but failing, the bulk of their muzzles keeping them apart.

The other two waited. Silent, still, hoping with every fibre in their body that no-one had heard them.

Waiting…

Listening…

Looking…

Finally, the coast seemed clear and they all began their trek onwards once more. The other wolf stepped forward this time, slowly lowering his foot down as he tried to avoid repeating the same error. He made contact, he began shifting his weight, before pulling back sharply as he heard the faintest of faint creaks. Both pups looked worried now, turning to the much larger bear behind them and, even through their seven to five-year-old minds, recognising that he had no hope. The little fox, who'd past the point without setting it off, scrunched up her eyes and cradled her head in her paws as she desperately tried to think of a solution. It came from the polar bear, who poked one of the smaller canines in front of him and gestured with his fingers, trying to tell him something. The pups just tilted their head with confusion, at which point the bear got down on all fours and carefully walked forwards, testing the ground as he went and quickly finding a silent way through. Looking back at the two wolves, the little vixen frowned and waved them on, before setting off with the bear in tow. A few seconds behind them and down on all fours, the pups followed.

.

.

.

"I spy… with my little eye… something beginning with S."

Tattletail closed his mouth and, ending his quick pace, began pacing once more around the metal roof of the post-box in the same circle he'd been tracing for the last half an hour. While the night's storm had raised up the snow around him, his bored stroll had kept his path clear, to the point where someone looking at him from outside would only see a moving head sticking up from a white landscape. The pace of the falling snow meant that soon this too would be gone. The second's past and he looked up, grumbling as he made eye contact with his partner in crime. "Nick?"

The Fox stayed silent, just looking on at the landscape in front of him in the same, detached fashion which he'd been using throughout the night. The small rodent grumbled somewhat, shivering from the cold despite the layers he'd put on, and cleared his throat ready to speak.

"I said…"

"Tattletail," Nick coolly said, his mouth twitching as he peered at said mammal out of the corner of his eyes. "I do not think it aids my suave, dapper, cool charm; to be seen playing I spy with my little eye."

…

"Your loss," the vole grumbled back in response, his tail flicking around out of boredom.

Nick smiled, a thin grin crossing the end of his muzzle as he shrugged and spoke softly. "That it be…"

"Yes it is," Tattletail interrupted, a sudden flick of excitement in his voice.

"Uh hu," Nick grunted in agreement as he began pacing along the edge of the wall, waiting for his new charges to arrive. Dressed back in his black suit, fedora and with a briefcase in his paws, he would wait this out in dignified, intimidating silence…

"No," Tattletail interrupted, his voice sounding almost like he was trying to clarify a point or something. "Yes it is."

"What are you going on about Tattletail," Nick sighed, turning around to set his eyes once more on the little rodent.

"It's, yes it is," he said condescendingly, rather enjoying this break from the cold tedium of the stakeout. "Not: that it be."

For a moment or so it seemed like the whole city had gone silent, bar for the harsh swirling of the wind and an annoyed vulpine grunt.

"That it be sounds cooler," Nick muttered under his breath, only for Tattletail to immediately give a verbal parry.

"Still wrong though."

"And more intimidating!" The fox said out loud, his paws out in front of him as he gestured. He paused as he realised that he'd broken the dapper façade of his mask, and turned to scowl harshly at the snickering mammal next to him, his paws resting sassily on his hips as he did so. The little rodent peered up at the larger vulpine, and just swooned at him with one of his paws.

"Oh, stop making excuses Nick."

"Very well, Gilmore…."

Nick couldn't help but chuckle as the Vole's eyes opened up wide at the utterance of his birth name. This time it was the smaller criminals turn to be annoyed, and he looked up to scowl at Nick, but Nick just shrugged and donned his famous smug grin.

"Just call me Tattletail, Wilde!"

"It's Gilmore though," Nick sassed, "not Tattletail…"

"Tattletail is the appropriate name for someone like me," the vole grumbled, "Gilmore is…"

"Correct, is it not?" Nick cordially asked, tilting his head and taking absolute glee in the situation. The little rodent huffed, before muttering under his breath.

"That it be it is then…"

"That it be Tattletail!" Nick said out loud, before giving his tie an unnecessary straightening (unless one considered looking cool an absolute necessity) and resuming his visage, standing with his eyes dead set on the building in front of him, as still as a statue, bar the occasional swish of his tail.

.

.

"It was snow, by the way…"

"My loss."

.

.

"The name Tattletail isn't grammatically incorrect, though. Unlike, 'that it be.'"

There was an annoyed swish of a large tail as two green eyes turned to stare down the persistent rodent. "Are you really so bored that you're willing to annoy me into discussing grammar with you?"

.

"Yes," came the perfectly innocent reply, complete with a quick shrug; before an annoyed, weary response was grumbled back in return.

"… Fine!"

.

.

.

Down the flight of steps the four carefully shuffled, finally arriving on the first floor. Over the last few days, they'd taken their time to really explore this more unfamiliar part of the building, to the point where they could almost navigate it with their eyes closed.

A soft hint from the kindly bear had told them that the floors here didn't squeak or squeal nearly as badly as the upper floors, thanks in no part to the newer carpets which cushioned their steps.

Even so, they still walked forwards on all fours like toddlers, silently moving one foot at a time as they got ever closer to their journeys end. Taking the long route around, so that they missed the matron's office and the sleeping mammal inside, they passed shuttered doors that held sleeping mammals behind them, their frontages decorated with colourful paper and signs. Ignoring the distractions, the pred mammals pace quickening as they sneaked and skulked with millions of years' worth of evolutionary optimisation behind them, repurposed to flee rather than fight.

Finally, they reached the place they'd been seeking.

Into the forbidden staff bathroom they went, closing the door slowly behind them before getting back up onto their hind legs, stretching and smiling as their little minds realised that they'd done it. After a few seconds to look around, sating the curiosity that any young child would have for somewhere that adults had announced was off limits, they nodded to each other and walked passed the rows of toilets, each one coming in different shapes and sizes to cater for whatever mix of species was looking after them at any one time. At last, their little legs got them to the final stall, adjoined by the outside wall itself, and they entered. Pulling the lid down and shuffling their way up, the young bear opened the window and peered out, looking down below.

Just as the big kind bear who came in to tell them stories had said, the snow was piled up here. This was their way out, to freedom. Looking down to his arctic fox friend, the bear picked her up and put her onto the ledge, before the vixen peeked over and dove off into the air.

.

.

"Do you think I could get one of those stage cigarettes to make me look coo…"

_Pfffff…_

The intent conversation between the two mammals was cut off by the sound of something suspiciously fox-like impacting the soft snow. Their ears pivoting around to catch the sound and they listened on as a tuft of snow erupted into a spray of white powder, with a faint orange light appearing in its centre.

 _"Poor thing,_ " Tattletail whispered, _"This is always the worst part…"_

As if to prove him right, a second orange light flew down into the snow seconds later, but not before flashing red. Nick winced as he saw the blue arc of harsh neon and heard the whisper of a shock going off. There was a much larger crunch in the snow, followed by a third. But then, there was no fourth.

Looking up, Nick and Tattletail both shied back as they saw the orange light glowing in the window. An orange light dangerously close to red. At first there were whispers, but then dangerously loud words, as the three mammals who'd made the jump urged their friend on.

" _Come on,"_ Nick whispered, closing his eyes and hoping. _"Come on…._ " He crossed his fingers, and looked on.

The light vibrated, it turned red, and Nick couldn't help but shut his eyes and flinch as the poor cub received his 'justified punishment' for the crime of being scared. He was about to open then again when a loud crunch broke the air. Opening his eyes again, Nick looked on through misting tears and spotted the crying, snivelling little child get to his feet and sneak forward with his companions. The Red Fox couldn't help but roll his eyes at the irony. The Bear's final push, given by his collar. Still staying outside the orphanage grounds, lest they be spotted or leave any incriminating evidence, Nick and Tattletail waited for the four to come over, all wading through the deep snow with their paws holding onto each others. But by the time they finally arrived, the red vulpine couldn't help but move forward and hug them all tight, smiling as he felt the four pairs of arms return the favour.

"Don't worry little ones, you're safe now. You're safe," he said in a well-practiced, lovingly paternal voice, comforting them and letting them know that his words were absolutely sincere. Still keeping his paws tight around the four little ones, wrapping them up in his tail to shelter them from the cold and giving them a warmth and comfort they'd either never experienced before or almost forgotten, he began looking over them one by one.

"You must be Vasil," he said lovingly to the polar bear, who smiled on hearing his name, though it was kept small and toothless by the cold muzzle he wore. "Boris and Eva are looking forward to meeting you. They've already got two cubs, and want a playmate for them. They'll love you very much."

Nick turned away from the polar bear as he spotted the cubs collar go up to orange, detecting the warm emotions of love and hope pouring through his little body. Even though he wished to comfort him some more, Nick didn't want to get little Vasil too excited just yet, lest the moment be ruined, and so he instead turned to the wolves. "And you two," he said softly, though he couldn't help but give a cheeky giggle as he saw the two pups, their faces almost innocent but at the same time giving off a fun little air of mischief. "Look at you two little ragamuffins! You'll be getting two loving parents too, one's a wolf like you and the others a maned wolf, who looks like a giant fox! They love each other very much but can't have children, so they'll be looking after you."

In a split second, the faces of both children were tilted sharply to the side and one of them, carefully spoke up. "Is he like the cook?"

Nick paused, thinking back to the details he'd pulled up about the orphanage and remembering now that one of the kitchen staff was indeed a maned wolf."

"Is the cook nice?"

All four onlooking preds nodded intently and Nick, unable to hold in a short "D'awww", held a paw to his heart before speaking. "That settles it then. He'll be just like your cook. Apart from the fact that he can't cook. Seriously… don't eat anything he makes, he once ruined honey on bread!" The two pups blinked, before bursting into a fit of giggles. Scratching their heads, Nick then turned to face, last but by no means least, the little arctic fox kit. She was very small and indescribably cute, with piercing blue eyes that looked like a clear winters sky or the ice on a perfectly frozen lake. Her fluffy white winter coat, where it till survived, was bright enough to shine even in the gloom. However, it had seen better days and was long on its way out, with the mottled specks of brown and grey of her summer coat coming through. Most would say that she looked her best when in a full winter coat, a few the same about her summer one, but in Nick's mind her patchwork moulting pattern was equally adorable in its own way. He bent down to hug her, smiling and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek like you would to a brother or sister, before softly speaking out. "What's your name, little one?"

"Anita," the young Vixen whispered, before looking down sullenly.

"And your last name?"

"…Fox… they called me Fox…" was all she murmured, and Nick felt his heart break at that, his ears and tail drooping down as if to hammer home the point. At least with his Mum, they'd given the little vixen left at their door a last name that you'd be proud to carry. But these mammals hadn't even cared.

"You know," Nick whispered into her ear, "you don't have to keep that last name".

"Don't… don't I…" she replied, and Nick couldn't help but feel his heart flutter as her face lit up.

"There's a loving vixen I know who's going to love you and kiss you as much as you deserve and then some, and I can stake my life on that, and her last name is Wilde. From personal experience, I can assure you that that's a great name."

Her smile fought hard against her muzzle, and she leapt forward to hug the first relative she'd ever known. Although he was still carefully checking her collar to make sure she didn't ruin it, Nick was certain that this was the best moment of her life.

"Come on," Nick announced to the group, "let's get out of here."

.

Unlike to cold outdoors, the inside of the car was warm like a sauna, hot air blowing around and heated seats turned up to the maximum. Best of all was the warm, sweet scent of hot chocolate, with four waiting cups filled up with the richest mixture Nick could find waiting for the children. They could wait, however, as other business had to be done first. Settling into the back seats, Nick and the four children cosied up against each other, allowing the older Fox to get to work. First came the muzzles, which only needed a simple key to unlock. Carefully taking the time, Nick undid the neck strap before helping them to pull the devices off of their heads, though he left the vindictive toss to the floor entirely up to them. The sudden change with each of them was amazing, their eyes lighting up as they opened their jaws out wide to breath in or smile, finally unadultered after being chained up for so long. After finally taking off the polar bears muzzle, which was large enough to fit Nick himself, he turned back to Anita Fox, or rather Anita Wilde as she was now called, who was still busy brushing and feeling the tip of her snout, giggling and living the moment.

"Hey Kid," Nick whispered, chuckling slightly as he saw her flinch, before turning her ears to face him.

"What?" she asked back, before pausing as Nick hovered over her and inspected the fur she'd just been fussing with.

"I'm guessing no-one's ever preened you, have they? And I mean properly preened, with love and attention."  
"No…" she whispered, before her eyes opened wide as Nick came in close with a collar key in his hand.

.

A bleep…

.

A click…

.

And then freedom.

.

Nick never tired of seeing a newly free Pred, especially the younger ones. Once more life poured back into her eyes, making the earlier event pale in comparison as she regained the right to her very emotions. Paws coming up, she rubbed and massaged the area, audibly purring with pleasure at the experience. Handing over the key to the other Preds, who quickly took their own devices off, Nick turned back to the little vixen. Leaning in, his tongue out, he gave the tip of her muzzle a quick little lick, sending the girl into a fit of giggles.

"You want more?"

"Yes…" she whispered, before her paw patted her neck for reassurance. Her smile grew into a goofy wide tooth filled grin, and this time she shouted. "YES!"

Nick was all too happy to oblige, and was soon down next to her, his tongue lovingly licking and preening her fur, setting her off into fits of giggles. In came his teeth too, busting out any knots that he found and scratching the skin underneath, all while little Anita purred and cried with joy. She revelled and flourished in all the pampering, her entire body mellowing out as she felt the care and attention in each and every stroke and tug, before it mellowed out as she settled in to the warm, relaxing embrace of cuddly love. Finally, Nick ended the pampering session, even though he'd only properly done a small part of her, and relegated himself to running his claws through her fur, massaging and fussing the top of her head as he moved on to preening the two wolf pups. The hot chocolate was finally out, with each child pouncing on the treat and taking in their helpings, each as big as was safely possible for their size and species. As Tattletail drove them through into the night, the five free preds huddled into a loving pile at the back, their eyelids fluttering as they drifted off into a blissful sleep.

.

.

By the time, they got to the docks a deep fog was rolling in, the lights of the city across the bay reduced to a ghostly glow of yellows, oranges and whites than shifted and morphed in the wind. After waking them up and letting them yawn a bit, their tiny paws rising up to rub their eyelids, Nick led them out. Stepping out of the car, the four children following him across the cracked tarmac and down into a seemingly abandoned warehouse, one of many that he had use of. A left here, a right there and then a stop at a bookcase. Nick could already see them giggling and looking over it, trying to find the trick book that would open it up. He let them humour themselves for a bit, poking about and pulling, before he stepped in. Grabbing a paperweight from the top shelf, he hovered it over the wall before a familiar click rang out. The four children jolted in unison as the floor below them shot up by an inch or so, an orange glow pouring out from beneath. Nick deftly waved them off before reaching under it and pulling it up, revealing the steep staircase that led down to the level below.

"After me," he instructed them, as they followed him down into the hidden lounge. It was furnished with numerous books, plenty of toys, a good-sized TV and a small kitchen run by a sweet old cougar. She greeted them all, explaining that she'd be looking after them until the boat came, and then presenting them with a goody basket full of treats, along with photos of Pinehaven town itself. As kids do, they were all over it, jumping up and down and shouting out questions, giggling and laughing and in some cases stropping at each other as they went. Nick however knew that he still had things to do and slipped himself into a rubber suit while the kids were shown pictures of their new families, tears escaping their eyes as they saw their new Mum's and Dad's. He paused as he spotted Anita look a picture she was cradling in her paws, catching the sight of a red fox vixen with the most wonderful green eyes, before it was pulled tight against her chest as tears poured down around it. Sighing as he prepared to put the one damper on an otherwise perfect day, he brought out four final instruments: a strip of paper like material, a sheet of paper, an ink pot and a quartet of empty medical syringes, before turning back to the children. Staying his nerves, he gulped before speaking out.

"OK, boys and girl, I'm going to need you to be really, really brave for this."

"Brave for what?" one of the wolf pup's asked, before flinching back when he saw the instruments in the Fox's paws.

"Something we do to cover our tracks, to mislead the Prey and confuse them…"

"A blood letter…" the other wolf whispered, and Nick couldn't help but feel a speck of guilt as four sets of tails and ears drooped down. This one had been watching the news, it seemed…

"He's right," Nick sadly replied, shrugging as he did so. "I need a little bit of all your blood, just a teeny-tiny little baby drop mind you… which we'll use to write a letter to the prey mammals saying that the 'Knights of the muzzle' has struck again."

"I'll… I'll go first," the second wolf whispered, and Nick couldn't help but feel proud for him. The brave little pup stepped up to the plate, and Nick did the deed. Bless his spirit, he didn't so much as sniffle as Nick drew his blood. Then came the other three, one flinching, one sniffling and one crying as they all made the same sacrifice. Finally done, Nick gave them each a kiss and a lollipop, before retreating upstairs to type the letter. The thin strip of paper like material was slowly brushed with the blood, before it was fed through the typewriter. Checking everything was working, Nick fed in the paper, cracked his knuckles and wiggled his fingers, before starting to type. His rubber suit keeping any fur off the paper, he did his work quickly and efficiently, before he took the letter out and placed it into a nearby safe to try. The next day, it would be in the post and the day after that it would arrive at the ZPD.

Another misdirection, by a sly fox, against the dumb prey.

.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22:**

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**_Autumn, 1994_ **

.

It was late October. The air was turning cold and the days were getting shorter and shorter as winter drew near. A burst of recent storms, which had lashed and whipped at the town and forced us to stay inside, had given way to a set of long crisp days with cloudless skies. For the last week, I was up at the crack of dawn and out working with everyone else, only returning home hours later when the sun finally dipped below the mountains to the east. We'd even spotted a small wisp of snow on the high mountains up to the north, though it didn't last long. But now, after working my pads to the bone the harvest was in. We were ready for winter. And it was time to celebrate.

Many woodland mammals, including foxes like me, had held harvest festivals in times gone by. Others who hibernated, such as squirrels and bears, would hold a farewell feast to the year, their last stock up before the deep sleep through the winter months. Most other mammals would also hold some kind of thanksgiving celebration later on in the year, based on an event shortly after the founding of Zootopia itself. Out here, though, we'd chosen to take all of these and celebrate them together. A harvest festival in celebration of bringing in the latest crop; a farewell feast for the hibernating mammals and a thanksgiving gathering for all that had been provided in the year past. All of them rolled up into one big, giant, massive party.

Thinking back, as I stood in one of the town hall's barns eagerly waiting for the festivities to begin with everyone else, I had a lot to be thankful for. It wasn't just life without our collars and all the hate and bullying that came with it, it was the fact that we were building something cool and epic. We'd got electricity this year! Two more boatloads of Preds had come over, and they all had new homes. Of course, there was the biggest thing to be thankful for, the little thing that was currently cradled in Mum's arms and resting, her teeny-tiny paws waving about as she danced to some dream.

The harvest had been big as well, with some people saying that it was enough food to last all of us two years. If it was, then in my view all the hard work and pain out in the fields was worth it, though it wasn't by much. My paws had ended up aching and caked in mud from digging up all the root vegetables, before almost freezing as we scrubbed them clean ready to be frozen or pickled. Thinking back though, I had to admit that I was lucky. Mrs Badger still smelled of vinegar, seeing as it had been her job to fill up barrels of the stuff, ready to pickle food and store it for months or years. My poor Pap's had got caught in some brambles and cut himself badly, while one of the lions still limped about after an accident with one of the big hedge clippers that were used to harvest the wheat and barley (and I am still finding husks and bits of hay from when we were threshing that stuff, even after loads of baths!). Worst of all, Finnick's brother Fenrick got stung by an escaped scorpion and had been very ill for days, though he seemed to be better now.

I'd seen for myself the rows of jaws and barrels filled up with food to last us the winter. I'd seen the freezers, filled to the brim. There were big metal pots filled with flour or grain, as well as a big pit of silage ready to be fed to the bugs, who were now being farmed at crazy rate by Finnick's family and would stay like that all year around. Even the fisher mammals had been busy, with twice as many shellfish pickled as we'd had last year. The number we were getting from our own little bay had begun to drop slightly, so now a good stretch of the beach on the ocean shoreline was being farmed for them and could easily supply more than we'd ever be able to eat. As for fish, anyone could go down to the shore with a pole and line and catch something huge for their family within an hour. With a boat and net, plenty more could be caught and most of that ended up in the smoke houses, preserving them for months just in case a bad storm ever shut us off from the ocean. Preserves were also made of the fruits we'd picked, things like chutney's and jams, while apples and barley were fermented into vinegar for pickling or drinks for the adults. I'd seen it all and helped with it, learning all sorts of useful stuff as I did so. It left me very tired at the end of each day, but unlike back in Zootopia, I was always excited to get back to work on the next.

After all the jobs were finally over, I'd been given time off the play with all the other kids. A football pitch had been prepared on the village green, along with a jumble of playground equipment such as climbing frames, swings and slides. We'd played on it all day, only spending time out to get lunch or have an odd scraped knee patched up. One bad knock during a game of bulldog had even knocked one of my teeth out! It was only a baby tooth though, so that wasn't bad at all. It was during a game of stuck in the mud that I'd first smelt it. The smell of cooking food, wafting in the wind from the kitchen in the town hall and carried by the morning breeze. But then it got stronger and stronger, I could make out close to a hundred different smells, while a quick peek into the kitchen revealed that is was packed with mammals working their pads off to get something big prepared. Finnick's Mum had spotted me and explained what was going on, and so I'd waited for hours and hours, getting hungrier and hungrier. All of us only got a little bread or fish at lunch, seeing as everything was going into dinner (and we didn't want to ruin our appetites, did we?). By the time the sun had been setting and I was helping out lay the tables and stoke the fires, the roaring in my stomach was unbearable. But finally, as it turned dark outside, we all came in ready to celebrate it all, together and as one.

.

_GRRRRRRR….._

My stomach rumbled and roared as I massaged it, trying to rid the aches flowing through me.

"Come on," I whispered, "just a bit longer…"

It rumbled again, louder and more painful, sending me curling up slightly as I flinched. I prepared to give it some much stronger words of warning, ones that I'd overheard the grownups say, only for the sharp ringing of metal on metal to distract both me and every other mammal in attendance. We all turned to face my Dad, who was standing on the table with a smile on his muzzle and a plate and fork in his paws, and we wondered what he had to say.

"PREDATORS!" he called out at the top of his lungs. "MAMMALS! COUNTRYMEN! LEND ME YOUR EARS!"

A soft chuckled went through the crowd before slowly fading away, the few final murmurs dying down as he cleared his throat ready to speak. "I'm sure that you'll all be mad at me if I delay the food, I thought for a moment that there was a lion next to me. I had to double check to make sure that it was just my son's stomach!" I scowled at him in annoyance as loads of other mammals began muttering or giggling. He turned to me, giving a quick wink, before carrying on. "In any case, food will be here shortly. The servers are already making their way around, and we'll have everything ready by the time I finish… hopefully…" There were a few muted chuckles, which he took the time to pivot his ears to, before turning his whole face and listening to them fully, before he nodded and carried on. "We're gathered here today, because this is a day for joy! It is also a day for melancholy, and finally a day to be thankful. Let me get the sad bit over with. As we all know, today will be the last day where we see some of our friends, with many of the bears going into hibernation either tomorrow or, at the latest, within a week. We'll all have friends who we won't see for months, so I thought we could give them a toast right now! To tell them that we'll be waiting for them over the winter!"

All of the Preds in attendance, myself included, grabbed their cups and glasses and raised them high, shouting out "HEAR! HEAR!" at the top of our voices in celebration. I looked over and spotted a brown bear family, all fattened up, smiling and waving at the others in thanks before my Dad carried on.

"Now let's talk about something much nicer. Let's talk about how much we've done over the summer, how much progress we've made. This year, our little town tripled in size! Our food supplies are secure, with a bumper harvest that's preserved, smoked, pickled, frozen or just waiting in dry storage, ready to keep us well fed and fat as the snow falls around us! Our homes have running water, and hot stuff at that! I'm even speaking to you under the light of our good friend, the electric lightbulb, evidence enough that we haven't had to go back to the savage ages to escape the collars." He paused slightly, glancing over to the side before carrying on, slightly slower this time. "I know that you all want to cheer me, but we've all worked hard to do that. Also, I might annoy a certain Wolf if I take all the credit! So, let's all put our hands together for all the mammals who've made all this possible."

Another round of applause rang out, anyone and everyone clapping and cheering and whooping, myself included. I looked over to Dad, who took the end with a bow, before he stood up and sighed. "You know… we shouldn't be patting ourselves on the back just yet, because even when we ignore most of mammalia and just look at Zootopia, there are millions, and I mean _millions,_ of Preds with those little boxes of misery strapped around their necks in the city alone…." His voice was sad this time, and as I remembered those dreadful things that we'd had to wear I couldn't help but let my ears droop down in sadness. I looked at him, the end of his muzzle twitching about, as he slowly carried on. "I didn't know who I was until I got my one off. I was honest to god scared, because I didn't know what I'd be like without it… All I knew was that I couldn't go on another minute letting my wife and child suffer it. Back in that city, we were just bugs, weren't we? Crawling about, not doing anything, just living mindless pointless lives… But look at us now! Look at us! Look at what we've done, here and now!"

I smiled as he carried on, his voice becoming the happy, excited, energy filled one I loved. I didn't care how hungry I was anymore. Instead I was hooked on each and every word that he spoke, unable to thin about anything else.

"They thought we were vile, selfish and useless! But we've worked together and made our own society! They thought we were mindless and violent, but we're happy and relaxed! We've done something that they truly fear, we've taken back our destiny from them! Where we go is now under our control! We can choose the world we want for our children, we can promise them a good life rather than feeling guilty for bringing them into a terrible one and having to try to justify our actions, knowing that we can't! We've taken back our present, we've got our future, and we've even wrestled back our past! Our old customs and traditions back as a pillar of our lives, although it seems that we're turning and sculpting them into something new and crazy! We can feel pride that we're Preds! We don't have to feel shame and hide our claws and teeth! We can let our kids play rough, while we can get excited and howl! We don't have to put up without humiliation and bullying by the Prey! We can make crazy love without fear! We can… we can…"

Dad paused, his voice dry and raspy from his long speech. Bringing up a glass of water, he took a deep swig before wiping his muzzle with his paw. He looked over the mammals in front of him, puffed up his chest and, as the servers almost finished their job, rounded off his speech. He wasn't excited, or sad this time, just sincere and honest.

"For all the Predators in Zootopia, let us be a source of hope to them. Let Pinehaven, the town we built from scratch, be this beacon of a better future to them! Because here, we can look our children in their eyes…" He paused, looking down at me and waving me up onto the table, next to him. I smiled and climbed up, walking across the table to hug him tight. I saw all the eyes looking at me and didn't feel afraid or shy, instead I felt proud. Proud that I was a Pred, proud that I was a Fox and proud that I was a Wilde. I smiled and waved at everyone as Dad bent down towards Mum, gently picking up my little baby sister with a pinch to her scruff, before pulling her up to him. With a quick flick of his wrist, the sleepy little Kit was cradled tight in one arm as my Pap's looked on as if he were the proudest person in the whole world. Smiling, he bent down to give her a kiss on her forehead and a quick lick by her ear that sent it flicking away, before he turned to face the crowd, ready to finish off the speech. "… and say, you're going to have one hell of a great life!"

There was a pause, and then everyone erupted into applause. Cheering, clapping, banging their paws on the table and even howling. The noise was crazy, and seemed to be giving both me and my Dad one massive rush. I looked up to him and he put his spare arm around my shoulders before pulling me into a tight hug. Both of us had a giant grin on our muzzles and even my sister, still less than six months old, seemed to smile and giggled.

It was hard to tell with her, seeing as she was just a cute little ball of brown fur at the moment. Wrapped up in a bundle of warm blankets, her ears were just tiny flaps on the side of her head while her short fine fur ranged from the colour of chocolate to the colour of ploughed earth. The only bit of her that wasn't brown was the end of her short stubby muzzle, around her nose and mouth where the fur was thin enough to reveal the warm pink skin beneath. Given one more month, and Mum said that her eyes would open for the first time, either being green like Mum's and my ones or amber like Dad's. Not long after, she'd get her first teeth and the first hints of her adult coat, before having it all by her first birthday, at which point she'd be scooting around on all fours causing chaos.

For now though, she was just a sleepy little ball of brown fur that was definitely smiling. As the last of the food came out, Dad pinched her by the scruff again and lowered her down to Mum, before he and I both began to retreat back to our chairs. Mum, however, handed her over to me as she too stood up, taking Dad and most of the crowd by surprise. As I held my sister and took the time to run my claws through her fur, massaging and fussing the top of her head, she cleared her throat before speaking.

"Before we eat, in celebration at our new country, I think there is one thing we're missing. Well, my son thought so, and so I thought the time would be right to unveil something he's been working on in secret. Men, women and children, may I present to you our new flag!"

There was a second of silence before the sound of unfurling fabric came from the end of the hall. Coming down from the top level, it uncoiled itself before hanging down and flapping in the breeze. In secret, over two months, I'd sewed it together and now, here it was, the flag of Pinehaven.

On top of three horizontal stripes, the top one light blue for the sky, the middle one green for the land and the bottom a deep blue for the sea, was a cold grey square surrounded by a thin brown line, turned to make a diamond shape, with two halves of a broken black chain on either side. The message was simple. The chains that had collared us were broken, and we were starting off on a blank slate.

There was a murmuring and I was briefly worried that people didn't like it, but the cheering and clapping that came after proved me wrong. I was ecstatic, they loved it! I handed over my sister back to Mum before jumping up onto the table to take a bow. The applause seemed to last for ages, and I was absolutely flustered by it, but eventually time came to sit back down and eat.

Given the pangs coming from my stomach, it wasn't a moment too soon.

.

.

The food was arranged out in big plates and bowls all strewn across the tables, with more than enough choice to keep me going throughout the whole night. The first thing I went for was a bowl of mollycoddle stew, from the big pot that had been waiting in front of me. It was steaming hot however, so I chose to have something cold in the meantime to stay my hunger. Leaning over, I picked up a piece of tough smoked fish and began digging into it, gnashing, biting and eating up the dry rich flesh and savouring it as I chewed. I didn't know what type of fish it was, though it certainly wasn't mackerel given how white the insides were. Swallowing, letting the last spike of salt and smoke flash across my tongue, I took another bite and then another, soon finishing it off. Having another attempt at the soup, I flinched back when the scalding liquid touched my tongue and instead chose to try some oysters. The nearest colony of the things was a day's trek away from the village, but they'd been brought over for the feast, fresh and alive. Looking over and spotting dad suck one up straight from the shell, I did the same and felt the salty, fleshy thing enter my mouth. I paused, passing it between my rows of teeth and giving the squishy thing an odd chew before finally swallowing it. Spotting Dad looking at me with his head cocked sharply to the side, I shrugged and held up my paws to signal my indifference, before he flicked back a smile and carried on eating another one. I, however, turned back to my mollycoddle which was finally cool enough to enjoy. A few sips preluded by some super rigorous blowing and then I was hoovering it up. It didn't last long and, as I mopped up the last of the sauce with some bread I was already eyeing up the deep-fried cockles. Filling up a big ladle with the little brown balls of salty more-ishness, I plopped them on my plate before digging in. As each crispy load came into my mouth, bursting with sharp salty flavour as I chewed them, another was already waiting to come up to replace it. I devoured through the plate in less than a minute and was about to get another plate when I felt someone bump into my side. Turning to face it, I saw Hester smiling with a big plate of fried fish and chips and a mischievous grin on her face.

"Wanna share?" she asked and, although a bit suspicious, I nodded and scooted up to give her some space. She hopped up next to me and put the plate between us before setting off. I went straight into eating the battered fish and the warm, soft chips while she took time to heap loads of salt, vinegar, ketchup and tartar sauce on her side. The sharp smells spiked up my nose and when she offered me some, I declined. I liked them, yes, but I was going to have lots of them anyway in other things. For now, I wanted to just enjoy the taste of fish by itself. I soon was, munching and chewing on the soft white flesh and fluffy batter or the soft fluffy chips as Hester just stood there, her tail swishing about faster and faster as I looked on. Finally having enough, I cocked my head to the side and demanded there and then, "what are you up to?"

She paused before leaning forward, dipping her finger in my glass and then sticking it in my ear. I had no chance of reacting in the time it took her to attack and, by the time I'd registered what had happened and held up my paws to bat her away, she'd fled with her food in tow, laughing and giggling a she went. I was just left there, confused and dumbstruck with an annoyingly cold, wet ear as I wondered what had just happened. That was until my ears pivoted around to focus on the sound of laughter, the rest of my head soon following and focusing on my Dad, in a fit of giggles.

"Keep… Keep an eye out…for that one," he managed to say, in between the fits of chuckling that took hold of him. He evidently saw my very annoyed face and paused, before looking at the burger he'd just got. "Wanna share, son?"

Nodding my head, I swapped places with Mum and my sister so that I was sitting next to him. Grabbing his knife, he deftly cut the the big fat bugburger in two and gave me the larger half. I paused, before biting in.

It was nothing like any other bugburger I'd ever tasted.

It could taste the familiar tang of crickets, but also the hearty flavour of mealworms which must have been added in as well. The effect of a simple addition was far more than just adding to the taste however, it made the burger juicy.

Back in Zootopia, burgers had been dry and needed lots of ketchup to be nice.

This one, however, ran with warm juices and was moist and fatty in the middle. It was hundreds, if not a thousand times better than the gunk we got back in the city.

On top of that, however, was all the other things added in. Cheese was very rare here, as were all dairy products, but the grated stuff melted over the burger was rich and full of taste. Far different to the rubbery slices the school might give out if we were good. Then there were the fried onions, the mushrooms, the pickles and the relish all added on top, dressing the burger in so many extra tastes. Some kind of seaweed had been added as well, and the pink stuff tasted like some kind of fatty, salty, smoky, crispy rich meat from heaven. Even the bun was better, much drier, crispier and fluffier than the soggy one's I was used to.

I'd never stopped to consider the possibility of a burger ever being this good. In an instant, I was opening my mouth for a second bite, attacking my helpless prey like a savage, gobbling it down piece by piece. The hunger in my gut had long since gone and the rapid pace of eating had an unintended consequence. I paused, cowering down as a vicious cramp rumbled across my stomach, before it was followed by a massive burp that half the room must have heard.

"I've already got one Kit to burp tonight," came a familiar voice from nearby. "Try and pace yourself so I don't have to do two, sweetheart."

I turned to look at Mum and nodded slowly. She'd been slowly making her way through her food, all the while feeding the baby as well. Turning down to look at her I saw the little ball of fluff at Mum's furry chest, suckling for her dinner while Mum occasionally gave her a stroke or kiss. Pausing for thought, I realised just how helpless she was.

"Come on, little one," Mum muttered dotingly as she gently pinched her scruff and lifted her up, sending her toothless pink mouth wobbling open and her limbs hanging limply downwards. "Three down, five to go you greedy little vixen you!"

I smiled as the tiny kit was manoeuvred to another position on Mum's body, from where she quickly found another teat and began sucking. While Mum joked a bit here and there, her voice made it clear how much she cared for the little thing. Even though it cried and needed changing, I loved her too. Yes, she could be annoying. She'd kept me up on enough nights for me to loose count, and no-one could do any sewing with her in their lap as her tiny paws seemed to find needles as if her life depended on it, but those were tiny in the big scheme of things. She was like a tiny butterfly that had to be kept warm and safe at all times, and strange as it sounded that made me love her even more. I loved petting her and watching Mum preen her, or snuggling up with her and feeling her grasp on to me. She couldn't speak or see, but she knew what love was and she loved me. For that, I loved her back with all my heart.

Turning back to my food, I scowled slightly at the lightly touched salad that had been shuffled in front of me and I pushed it well away, before an exotic scent got my tail wagging. I looked around and saw both Mum's and Dad's shaking too, as they both began sniffing in deeply. Before I could even say a word, Dad had already turned and was shouting out.

"Cherifa! That isn't…!?"

"Oh yes it is!" Finnick's Mum replied back, as she carried a small clay pot with a cone shaped cover over to us. Already, my mouth was filling with saliva as the scorpion tagine was placed down between us. Taking the lid off, a cloud of sweet perfumed air escaped as the dish beneath was revealed, a mix of fruits, vegetables and insects all coloured and flavoured with spices that gave it all the colours of a setting sun. Finnick's Mum handed us a pot of cous-cous and was then on her way, leaving us to savour the taste explosion we'd been presented with. Taking my fork, I carefully skewered one of the peeled scorpions, its tender flesh marinated in the thick spicy sauce. Scooping it up with some of the chopped vegetables and fruit that were sending my nose haywire, I took in a big bite and felt my body melt in pleasure. The scorpion meat almost dissolved in my mouth, the light but tangy flavour intermingling with the warm spices and sweet, sweet fruits to create a flavour that blew everything else I'd had that night out of the water. My head tilted up and my eyelids fluttered as I finally swallowed, a loud 'Mmmmmmmm' escaping my muzzle. As I dove in to have another bite, I looked up at both Mum and Dad to see them doing the same.

.

We were all getting full and the evening was moving on, so the deserts came out. First were the pies and crumbles, made from all the fruits gathered in the harvest which would otherwise go to waste. Apple, Blackberry, Raspberry, Strawberry, Blueberry, rhubarb, cherry and pine nuts, all inside different types of pastry casings and ready for us to eat. I went straight for a blueberry pie, the only food in the world that could top what I'd just had, and dove in, savouring the tart sweetness of the fruit and warm crumbly pastry bite by awesome bite.

After gorging myself fully, I chose to grab a flapjack and, following her scent, share it with Hester. She was with her family across the hall, her stomach bulging out and her hand lazily rubbing it. I paused as I heard her moaning, and listened in as she talked to her father.

"I've not admitted I'm wrong… I'm not giving in… I've just decided that I've had a perfectly acceptable amount tonight."

"Wanna share a Flapjack?" I shouted out loud, and I smiled as I saw her eyes go wide with worry. Looking around, she shifted about and leant back so was leaning against the table. She chuckled, slowly fluttered her eyelids before waving me over. I split my flapjack in two, while slowly thinking about the most disgusting way of getting back at her. It hit me in a flash and, with a mischievous grin on my muzzle I settled down next to her, leaning on my knees and presenting her with the treat.

"Thank you, Nick," she whispered, before biting it whole. Chewing and swallowing, she paused as she began removing the sticky flecks from her teeth with her tongue and claws. Her mouth, lightly gaping open, was completely unprepared for my killer revenge attack. In a flash, my paws were behind her head and cradling it as I dove in with my muzzle. I opened up my lips and soon they were against hers. Her eyes went wide as I sucked, making the sloppiest kissing noise I could make, and they went even wider as I jokingly stuck my tongue far into her own mouth, waggling it about in order to disgust her as much as possible. I pulled back and out, taking a second to look at the shell-shocked vixen, before I burst into a fit of laughter and ran away, only turning to confirm that the rest of her family was laughing along with me. They were, her father in particular banging his fist on the table and laughing at the top of his voice, while Hester just looked on like a deer stuck in headlights, not knowing what to think. I looked away and ran back to the rest of my family.

.

.

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After another hour or so, the feast had ended and everyone was going home. All the bears had hugged their friends and retreated to the barn on the other side of the town hall, ready to fall asleep for the course of the winter. Other mammals had divvied up the leftovers that they liked, for lunch and dinner the next day, but otherwise cleaning up the hall would wait for a day or so. Walking through the dark brisk night, I followed Mum and Dad, walking under the line of dull street lamps to our home. Flicking on the lights, we made our way through the front room, past the dead fire in the lounge and then climbed the stairs up to the top floor. The recent cold snap had caught us before our winter coats had come in and, without the fire, the upstairs was chilly. I thought enviously about Finnick in his home, with his electric fan heater to keep him warm. However, that was soon at the back of my mind when Mum asked if I'd like to sleep in their room for tonight, for warmth. Nodding, I went into my room to get my things while they settled down to feed and change the baby.

.

"Nick, why are you bringing that in here?"

I paused, cocking my head at Mum's question.

"I mean, you are ten…"

I scowled, and pointed fiercely at my parent's bed. "Those things are stupid and uncomfortable!"

I didn't need to justify what was clearly a fact! Instead I turned around, grabbing my basket with two paws and tugging it further in, only to get stopped as I felt a light tapping on my shoulder.

"Listen," Mum said with a shushed voice, evidently concerned about waking my sister. "If you find it THAT bad, then you can go back to your basket. But you'll be between Dad and I, and we don't care if you sleep on your back or curled up. That's the same as a basket, isn't it?"

"S'pose," I muttered, before smiling and hopping up onto the bed. It was far harder than the pillow at the bottom of my basket, but apart from that it wasn't so bad. Jumping up and down a few times to test how soft it was, I went down onto all fours and paced around for a bit, before settling down into position. Curled up, my tail over my nose, I felt Dad's already snoozing body to my left and Mum and my sister to my right.

"Won't she wake us all up in the middle of the night?" I asked, although Mum just chuckled before kissing me. "I've got the feeling that she won't tonight."

"How do you…"

"Just call it a mother's intuition," she replied, before giving me a wink. I settled down again and got comfy, helped by the occasional soft pawing I felt on one of my sides as the little kit slowly moved in her sleep. I smiled, before leaning over and giving her a gentle kiss on the end of her nose…

I paused, the little kiss suddenly getting stuck in my mind.

Kiss…

Kiss….

Was what I did to Hester my first kiss? Was it hers?

I shrugged, realising how much of an anti-climax that was. I was going to settle down and sleep at that point, but I was disturbed by Mum speaking out.

"Nick…?" she said softly, to which I replied in kind.

"Yes Mum."

"… You know, back in Zootopia, I'd never want another Kit."

"Because of the collars?"

"Yeh," she sighed weakly, before sniffing. "And all the other things… At first, your Dad and I agreed that we wouldn't bring any new foxes into this world to suffer…"

"What!?" I said out loud, only to slap my paw against my muzzle as I realised how noisy I'd just been. Turning back to Mum, I paused as she sniffed. Once, then twice, and under the slats of moonlight coming in from Dad's 'roof window', I could swear I saw a tear or two roll down her face. When she next spoke, her voice was sad and cracking, and she kept her gaze facing straight up into the sky.

"I mean, we didn't even like mating that much given how careful you have to be. But then one day, a few weeks after one of our failed attempts, I found out… I'm not sure quite how it happened, must have been a small tear or something, but we decided to roll with it anyway. I mean, we'd been on the adoption register for a few months but even with all the Foxes rotting in there, they didn't like the idea of us adopting. They didn't 'get' why we didn't want to bring a new fox into the world so they thought that, seeing as we had no children and were foxes wanting to adopt, we were up to something…"

I shuffled over closer to here, not wanting her to be this sad, and hugged her tight. I couldn't help but cry myself as she carried on. "Even though things changed from my time in the system, back when they thought that some non-existing Prey mammal would come and give those kits a better life, I still think that they would have wanted to make us wait for a year or two. Just to make sure that no-one else was coming…"

There was a soft pause, Mum letting out a few tears, before she continued. "Anyway, when we got the news, we were worried. But how bad can it be, we thought? So, we had you and… well we loved you more than anything and those first years were magical… but… but…"

"I know," I whispered, remembering how my Dad had cried on the day of my taming.

"Yup," she replied, "And we swore off ever having to go through that heartbreak again. It did break our hearts, you know. Seeing you tamed. Seeing you get hurt for being a kit. But, now we're here, we don't have that anymore do we?"  
I smiled as I saw the life return to her eyes and a smile to her muzzle. She paused, wiping away the last few tears before finishing off. "I get to raise another little bundle of love, without that taint, without the guilt that I'm bringing her into a sad, sad life. I love you, I love her, and we're going to have great lives. You know that?"

"I know that Mum," I replied, before turning down to my sleeping sister. I snuggled up as close as I could, feeling her warm little body against me. Leaning in, I give her a few happy little licks before finishing with a gentle kiss on her nose, which sent her squirming about in a truly adorable way. I stood still for a few moments, breathing in her scent. It was sweet and it was warm and it was so delicate, it made me feel so proud and so brave as well, making me feel like I had to do everything and anything to care and defend her. I was her big brother, and I knew that I was going to be the best big brother who ever lived.

"Night Lynn, I love you," I said, as I planted one last soft kiss of her and tuckered in for the night.

True to Mum's word, she slept like an angel.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23:**

.

_Judy’s Diary. 07.04.16._

.

Good morning Zootopia!

.

And if it isn’t a good morning! Me, here, now….

.

Nursing the mother of all hangovers…

.

All while living next door to Motormouth and Mr foghorn…

And no, I’m not going to write YET another paragraph on those too pootosser bastards. Because I have jobs to do, and time to waste. I mean, if I ever want to go into academia I’m certain I could write a thesis on those two _(did I already write this joke… turns out I did. Who gives a damn anyway?)_. Regardless, after my first text-speech device committed suicide after THE EVENT _(insert cliché thunder & lightning sound effects here)_ I’ve got another one. Fortunately, the person in charge of recovering the data was able to spot very quickly quite why the circuits… melted (no seriously, the hardware literally melted). But anyway, I believe that the events of the 2nd of April should be commemorated in these pages, so that history should never repeat itself. Alternatively, it should be forgotten and preferably buried in soft peat. I really don’t know what the preferred option is, but for now I think I’ll try and put it behind me. Consequently, we will no longer talk about it! Isn’t that right Judy?

Never ever, ever speak or think of this again. ~~Yow~~ You understand?

.

So, taking that smug pelt Mr Vulpes’ words to heart and looking for meaning in lyrics, Where are we now?

.

Well, excluding all the geographic considerations, I’m in a rut.

.

And not the fun kind.

.

Unfortunately…

.

It’s the kind of rut where I make lewd rutting jokes in my diary, as shown by example one above us.

I think that it’s safe to say that this journal has already descended into a diary, no use in denying it now. But it really annoys me that the simplest of ALL tasks I set myself has come apart after so little time. I mean, I should have seen that I was enjoying an odd vent or rant here and there at the frustrations of modern life and brought a separate diary or something. I know it’s technically a cheat, but still? I would have at least met one of the promises I made to myself.

At least one…

Because despite my targets, promises and goals, to both my officers and the Pred population at large, I am nowhere near solving the Knights of the Muzzle case. OK, I found an interesting connection or two and some strange coincidences but nothing concrete. Nothing that acts as a solid lead to what their motives are. Where they’re based. Who is in charge. Even my earlier hypothesis about Preds being smuggled into the power caves is moot. Seismic gear detected no evidence of the sealed caverns being used for anything. We have no survivors, no witnesses, nothing to follow. Mayor Swinton herself got back to tell me the news, although she gave me a pat on the back for trying.

How is this possible?

It’s like these mammals are simply vanishing and are complicit in it. How else would 10,000 or more Preds go missing over twenty plus years without anyone finding anything?

Unless Swinton’s behind this all and was fabricating the results of her test to confuse me. Thinking about it, it isn’t entirely implausible…

Actually no. Even if she was capable of it, that bumbling assistant mayor of hers is such a moron that the entire conspiracy would be leaked out in seconds.

.

What other promises to myself have I broken?

There’s the C word for one. I promised that, by the end of my first year, its use would be eradicated.  Yet by my last count I’m still getting called it once a week. What’s worse is the fact that people are diversifying and finding loopholes. Primarily the A word. But also the P word, H word, F word (with all its many, many derivatives) the L word and not one but two alternative C word’s! I’ve tried and I’ve tried. I have one of the best records and the force. Even Bogo respects me (despite the event that shall not be mentioned.) But still, despite all I’ve achieved, I’m still being called cute out loud. This is a modern progressive city, isn’t it?

Detective Oates seems to be doing nothing of any use or value, and seems resigned to continue this state of affairs for the foreseeable future.

And… and….

.

.

URGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just can’t take this anymore. So much frustration. So little reward. I said this was a diary now, so let’s just forget about it and look at the fun stuff in life…

.

Oh sweet cheese and crackers……

.

.

Go to Francine’s birthday they said.

It will be fun they said.

Just one carrot Vodka they said, you’ll be fine they said.

Make it a dozen, they said… you’re enjoying it now they said (the fact that I was is a moot point).

Bla…bla…bla…bla…karaoke… (the last thing I recall, I’m sure there was a ‘you’ll be great’ in that though).

.

As you’ve probably gathered, you had a big drunk night out, didn’t you Judy?

Why yes my critical self-conscious, I’ve seen the images up on fur-book. I’ve seen me taking shot after shot of orange coloured, carrot flavoured distilled potato alcohol, complete with a cute sprig of parsley in the top. I’ve seen my octave out of tune drunken rendition to ‘Goats just want to have fun’, where I end up perpendicular to the stage with two verses still to go. I’ve seen myself doing pole dancing around the microphone during the last verse, before sticking a traffic cone on my head and calling myself the vodka witch!

And yes, I’ve seen the twenty dollar commemorative T-shirts and mugs which are on sale.

.

I suppose I should be happy, looking back it was a fun night, wasn’t it?

I mean I brought home a traffic cone.

It’s not a good night if you don’t have a traffic cone…

And at least I don’t have to worry about where I got the policewoman’s helmet from, do I?

(Serious question though, I could literally use it as my bed. Just who’s is it, and how did I get it?)

Anyway, as long as…

OH SWEET CHEESE AND CRACKERS….

There’s now a CALENDAR on sale!

.

I…

.

I…

.

I don’t think anything can get worse than the May picture, can it?

.

OH GOD! I’VE JUST SEEN AUGUST!

.

You had to Judy. You just had to tempt fate, didn’t you?

.

Well, there goes my self-respect AND my reputation. Potentially my career too. Hey, at least I did well in the office table football competition, didn’t I?

I mean, beating Miss Pawena from records and getting into the quarter finals did seem a bit cheap given that if I hadn’t goaded her so much and dragged her into a whole sports-banter/mudslinging competition, then she wouldn’t have got excited enough to send her collar off and she’d have won…

But still, I’m not a token bunny (and I do know how to play reeeeaaal dirty).

.

..

?

.

They’ll look at me and remember that I can spin and punt faster than most, won’t they?

They won’t remember me chugging a beer down Antlerson’s medical cone, will they?

.

.

Oh…

.

I’ve just remembered that.

.

I’m remembering more now. Hopefully they’ll be some redemption and…

OH GOD, THAT’S EVEN WORSE!

.

Maybe if I do become a party monster, they’ll like me more?

I mean, after my 3rd Drink I did have fun. I was laughing, jumping and singing (if you can call it that (to be fair though, I don’t think you can)). Sure, I may have shattered my reputation, but it was the first real bit of fun and excitement I’ve had for months. Maybe I should try and meet more mammals?

Get a dating profile?

.

I mean, stereotypes (and bulk orders of the chill pill) aside I’d still quite like to have a small family in the future. Someone to care for, snuggle with, stop me feeling lonely. A dozen babies too. And given my experience in this apartment, I could probably sleep through any and all crying. Including the rare occasions where all my kits escape the cot, each find a megaphone and proceed to scream through them, at full volume and point blank range into my ears.

Anyway, what kind of dating profile name could I use?

I could just go with my plain name, but that might stick me with one of the crazy fanboys. Something similar but not exact would be nice.

Judy on duty?

~~Jude the dude?~~

JLHopps?

Lady Laverne…

Oooh, I quite like that one! Maybe this whole diary thing wasn’t a bad idea after all? _(note to self: never ever ever tell the shrink that!)_

.

Regardless, what kind of mammal would I like to settle down with?

Someone fiery, intelligent and independent. But who still likes the soft cuddle here and there, and likes doting on things. Maybe a bit of a goofus? A secret goofus who hides behind a sly, sarcastic mask, put up ever since a tragic childhood incident…

Shame I don’t know anyone like that.

I don’t think that I’d like someone exactly like me, two headstrong bunnies wouldn’t go well together. Or maybe not a bunny? Some kind of dangerous, exciting mammal…

Like a big beefy Boar, with TWO! pairs of tusks which, though that sounds strange and ugly, is actually really handsome given that they are _just_ right…

And who’s a tough, ass-kicking devilish rascal…

.

Am I fanaticising over one of the Razorbacks?

.

To be fair though, I think they can make any mammal an inter…

.

Scratch that, scratch all of it. I still have a duty I need to do! A sworn duty, and a responsibility owed to each and every Pred in this city. The badge I wear is worth nothing if I don’t serve and protect them with trust, honor and integrity. I’ll get a dating profile when the secrets of the knights of the muzzle are laid open and bare for everyone to see.

AKA. When I’m ninety.

.

Joy of joys…

.

Whatever happens, I DO need time off. Which is why I’ve booked a train and will be staying over at my parents for a night or two. Recharging my batteries.

.

J Hopps, signing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have recognised, I took some inspiration for Garouge Fox's Fic, take a stand, in this chapter. If you haven't read it already, I strongly advise you check it out.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24:**

.

_Judy’s Diary. 08.04.16._

.

Ah, morning…

.

Or is it afternoon? I wouldn’t be surprised…

.

Nope, still morning (just!)

.

Hang on, I’ve just had a GREAT idea!

.

.

Why is this last few five minutes seeming to take an hour or so.

.

.

FIVE!

.

FOUR!

.

THREE!

.

TWO!

.

ONE!

.

AFTERNOON IS GO!

.

_(Thunderclap! … DUNNN! …  DUNNN! … DUNNN! … Dun-dun-dunnn… Duh-Duh!-DUH!-DIUH! DUH! DUH!!! DUH!!! Duh...)_

_…_

Drat, that’s as far as I remember, not very F.A.B is it? Well, another old Gerry Antlerson favourite for the re-watch list _(Side note, I’ve just realised how much Mr Vulpes looks like the hood, strange that.)_

.

Anyway, I got home, proper home mind you, late last night. It isn’t far from central Zootopia to the outskirts, in particular the Burrows where I live. Not as if we’re 275 miles away is it?

But still, I was very tired that night. Tired enough to only take a quick short hug from Mum and Dad (and my, did I miss them) before I was back to my old room in the bowels of the burrow.

I’ve really missed this place…

I didn’t bother looking at it last night, given that I was so exhausted by the trials and tribulations of the last month or so, so I just collapsed and went to sleep…

Sleep, it’s SERIOUSLY underrated. It’s like UBER coffee mixed with a luxury spa treatment. And I mean, it can get even better! I’m still mentally scarred and was still a bit fearful that, after beginning to hear the sound of those two neighbours in my dreams, it would carry on. I mean, the last few nights were horrible. They were literally in all of my dreams.

All of them…

Even the lewd ones…

.

Getting the key to the city after solving both the knights of the muzzle and savage pred cases (the latter one turned out be blue food-dye from the smarties factory leaking into bug-burgers).

Those two were there, arguing about salted peanuts…

.

Fleeing across a golf course, chased by a marauding pack of killer, savage, salted peanuts…

Bucky and Pronk were there arguing if the form of my attackers was somehow their fault.

.

Running across a beach with the waves to my right, and some kind of funeral gone horribly wrong on my left.

Their disembodied heads appearing next to me, looking around confused, and then arguing what they had to do with this one and why they had a priest’s collars on, before doing reciprocating ‘NO, YOU SHUT UPs!’ as they vanished off into the ether.

.

Anyway, this night’s sleep had no dreams. No images. No voices. Nothing….

It was simply… hmmm, hang on… 12 hours of uncompromised flat out blissful nothing.

Some people say they are scared of what comes after death. That it will be an empty nothing. From my experience, an empty nothing would be rather pleasant. In fact, I’d quite enjoy it!

Of course, the great thing coming from that great big snooze was feeling all recharged and up and at them in the morning. I literally felt ten years younger…

Actually, no. When I was fourteen I was tired all the time.

Make it twenty years younger instead. That sounds better, doesn’t it?

Instead of sagging limbs, droopy ears and weary, itchy eyeballs that felt like they were trying to pull my eyelids back down, I felt awake. Ready to take on the world…

.

After more R&R like that of course. Because, let’s face it, you can’t have too much of a good thing can you?

(Carrot juice vodka being the potential exception (thank got Mum and Dad haven’t found out about it yet)).

.

Anyway, where was I?

Ah yes, my old room.

The ancient darkroom that was abandoned from the rise of the digital camera until the moment I needed a place to work on my cases. Then it was me, Billy (who’s grown into quite a handsome young buck), and Mike going down and refurbishing it. Looking at which bits to keep (the old, stained and chipped hardwood and iron desks had too much character to get rid of (insisted upon by Mike)) and which bits to remove (case in point, the old bulbs and that rattling asbestos filled air filter). Then it was a quick go-over with wallpaper and/ or paint.

I didn’t stay in here long, but my word do I love it now. Given my experience in the city, and with the grim realities of independent living, I think I’m going to brave the commutes. Won’t cost any more, seeing as the fare is about the same as the cost of that little apartment, but the quality of my life will certainly become tolerable. Looking up at all my trinkets and books, each with their own storied history. My old police costume from the carrot day festival. The letter that Gideon sent me, begging me to help him abandon his old savage ways and go straight. All the pictures from growing up, from my first tooth to my graduation and beyond. My books, ranging from every detective book ever released to children’s guides to detective work (ah, the blissful days of the past where a simple paw-print dusting could tell you which Fox or Weasel had done it). Then, moving on to the more complex books, regarding thesis’s and investigations into criminal law and crime prevention. I admit, some of that stuff was crazy but it worked! The tip about always aiming to investigate a lead Prey suspect, along with a lead Pred one, apparently helped the ZPD really bring up their conviction rate, rather than just having a long list of Preds who we didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute and/or convict. It’s just amazing how much the stereotype of all criminals being Preds has led to countless Prey criminals escaping the net (and I suppose a few good Preds being wrongfully convicted… (Good thing I’m better than that.))

I’d like to have a lead Prey suspect for this case, but seeing as the only ones who have any semblance of a connection are Preds, it seems that crazily enough I can’t. On the one case where you would think Preds simply wouldn’t do it, of all things!

.

I’m getting distracted again, aren’t I?

Silly Judy ( _slap wrists_ ), you should be here relaxing and forgetting about the case. Unwinding your brain and detoxing.

.

Anyway, time for brunch…

.

* * *

 

.

After brunch:

Another thing I’ve missed, and I mean REALLY missed.

Good food.

I mean, after getting fed up with tiny, chewy, disgusting carrots for one’s; I ended up going out to find a greengrocer, and from there lived off of raw vegetables. Lettuce, alfalfa, carrots (of course).

I have to admit, it was likely very healthy and cheap…

But I don’t want to nibble on another raw carrot in my life EVER again.

.

Or at least for the next few weeks…

Days…

_Hours?_

.

Brunch was just a hot, messy stew of sliced up vegetables in a rich tomato sauce. Carrots, onions, aubergines, courgettes, spinach…

Just a big, warm, spiced up mish-mash of melt in your mouth vegetable goodness…

I’m not going to lie, I had a taste-gasm.

Actually, I think I had six…

Mum and Dad, despite being on the other side of the complex, heard.

.

After going back for thirds, I finally met Mum and Dad and we talked. Properly this time.

We laughed, we talked about new developments (their new twins, my work on the case), we discussed all the little things that irritated us or made us angry or…

Well, one thing that did irritate me was the semi-monthly settling down discussion. Dating, marriage, kits…

And yes, I did tell them about my plans to settle down after finishing this case, and that did seem to mollify them somewhat (success!)

.

Then Grandad Maxwell came in…

And gave us a long tirade about how the Knights of the Muzzle were the best thing to ever happen to this city, and how Foxes were red because the devil made them… yadda…. yadda… yadda…

Of course, we then got Grandad Basil coming in. Calling Maxwell a coward and a ‘unbuck-toothed, pellet eating coward.’

Cue another argument between those two…

I tried to stay on for the sake of Basil, but I began having PTSD flashbacks of the gruesome twosome, so I promptly excused myself and retreated here.

Back into my private room, deep down in the bottom of the burrow. In the peaceful quiet…

.

I think… I think I’m gonna have a shower.

.

* * *

 

.

Ah, that was nice. Again, nothing like a pounding, steaming hot shower to gloopify (can I add this word to the dictionary, plz) your tired, worn out muscles.

Note: If anyone from the rainforest district wants to know why the mid-afternoon rain storm was just a light misting, guilty as charged.

I’m not sure how long I was in there and I don’t really care. All I do know is that a hell of a lot of dust, grime and fur came out. The filth of the city… washed away.

I wish it could all be that easy.

I bumped into Mum on the way out of the shower, and she forced me into a discussion. It seems like my quisling little ears were droopy earlier, though she tried to pass it off as ‘a mothers intuition.’ Anyway, I broke down to her. I may have even cried. But I let all the frustration, pain and effort flood out. Bucky and Pronk. Mr Smug Vulpes.  The atrocity against the English language…

The case…

If the ZPD knew about all I’d spilt, I’d likely be back down to meter maid before you could say ‘My mommy wishes you were dead’. But Mum can keep secrets and we were alone (and I have my emergency folder of everyone’s secrets, including her use of ready meal deserts at dinner parties). I told her about all the dead ends, the issues, how no-one has ever been linked. The horrific apathy that both my boss, and every Pred I’ve talked to, display about this crime against mammality.

.

She hugged me…

And everything seemed just a little better.

I smiled.

She smiled back.

And I felt as if an Elephant had been lifted from my shoulders. It was such a little thing. So small, so tiny but it made me feel so much better. I remembered all the good I’d done so far in my career, and how much effort I’d put in. How far I’d gone, how many stereotypes I’d busted and how many falsehoods I’d disproved. How I’d become a trailblazer, a model for all Bunny’s to follow. How I’d made those who said I could be nothing more than a carrot farming dumb bunny look like complete and utter fools.

.

So, now what?

.

How about trashy TV?

.

I mean, that sounds good, doesn’t it?

Or what about a crap film…

I still have that ancient copy of ‘The Set’… But thinking back, you can’t really watch it unless you’re in a packed movie theatre with three hundred others (all done up in black and white hair-dye and carrying tuba’s at the bare minimum.)

.

Trashy TV it is then.

.

So, the age-old question. Two broke Goats or Horsin’ around…

.

Did I really call that a question?

.

Can’t get enough of good Ol’ Bojack….

Five seasons of mind-rotting epicness, HERE I COME!

.

* * *

 

.

OK, NOW I’M PISSED OFF!

.

I’m currently writing this on the train back into Zootopia. Everything was good, I’d sailed through seasons one to two without incident and was going up to get dinner.

Then I saw the news.

FOUR PRED ORPHANS!

FOUR OF THEM!

Abducted, taken, vanished…

TWO DAYS AGO!

Apparently, the entire office decided not to inform me because, and I quote: ‘The ex-Vodka Witch threatened to make a savage tiger look like a moderately passive-aggressive hamster if someone so much as disturbed her.’

Whether I said that or not, I’m going to make ‘the ex-vodka witch’ look like Mahatma Gander when I get back!

_(Although note to self, maybe not a good choice. After all, Canada geese are the only birds required to wear collars when visiting Zootopia, aren’t they?)_

But first…

First off I’m going to learned those Kids names.

I’m going to drill it into my head so that I never, ever forget.

And if they dare refer to them as those ‘pred kids’ or even ‘chompers’, then I may just need a tame collar and muzzle myself!

J Hopps, signing out.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25:**

.

_Judy’s Diary. 09.04.16._

.

Ronald and Remmy Packson.

Twin Wolf cubs (non-identical), both aged six.

Apparently very cheeky, a little naughty, and lovers of paw-pad painting. Their rooms were covered in what must have been hundreds of paintings, though few (apparently their favourites) are missing.

Orphaned age four, after their parents were killed in a traffic accident. They stopped at a traffic light after a night out, the Elephant driver behind was drunk and didn’t…

.

Anita Fox.

Arctic Fox vixen, almost seven.

Quiet, shy, but a lover of all things snow. Under the eaves of the orphanage were a line of happy snow mammals, Prey and Pred holding hands and smiling. One of the staff said that most of those were hers.

Abandoned as a baby with nought but her first name.

During the investigation, a young snowshoe hare kit came up to me crying, asking if I was here to arrest him. Apparently, he’d tried to help her the day before by giving the snow-Preds collars made of sticks and branches from a pine tree. She tore them off and got angry, he argued and she set off her collar. He thought that it was his fault that she was gone, and said that he should go to jail for being a bad friend.

.

Vasil Snowpaw.

Polar bear, just turned five. Staff said he was a big baby at heart, for better or worse. Noted for being clingy, hugging staffs and other children tight, though none as much as his stuffed teddy bear (which was taken along with him). After receiving his collar just a few weeks ago, staff say that he tried his best to be a big bear, his attempts to be mature and grown up only making him cuter. Now he’ll never get the chance.

Orphaned age two, after his single mother died from a serious case of mange.

.

.

These are the name of the Preds who were taken from the Tundratown mixed species orphanage, stolen away in the middle of the night by the knights of the muzzle.

Taken to a fate unknown by a hate group.

Potentially dead or suffering abuse worse, potentially far worse than it, right now even as we speak.

Their disappearance was first noted during the early morning of the 7th of April. By now, more the forty-eight hours have passed. Two days…

Two days for the villains to get away. To hide. To use. To abuse and torture.

To dispose…

As everyone learnt at the academy, once you’ve passed that deadline the chances of finding your missing mammal is infinitesimally reduced…

I’d like to have hope.

I so, so wish…

But it’s hard.

I don’t think I can.

It feels terrible to admit, but I’m pretty certain that whatever I do these four are dead and there is nothing that can change that.

As for finding those who did this?

Again, I have little to no hope.

We have no evidence, no eyewitnesses, all tracks or markings are covered by freshly fallen snow and most importantly, the extra cameras I had installed have been deactivated.

All of them.

Broken into, torn apart, or in most cases simply having an internal or external wire cleanly cut by a professional. At this stage, I have serious concerns that we have a leak or agent in the ZPD’s midst. How else would these perpetrators know about our plans? Know where the cameras are and, heck, WHAT MAKE THEY ARE! Yes, maybe this person magically new how to snip the right internal wires on a dozen security cams with a tiny pair of scissors. But in most cases this seems far, far too professional.

As a result, I filed a review in to Bogo that highlights these concerns, but it will take time to filter through to Buffalo Butt himself. It will take even longer for him to read it and, IF he decides to act on it, ages more for something concrete to come out of it. How many more lives will be lost in the meantime? How much time would a potential leak have to discover this, act on this. Adapt, change, evolve, slip under the radar so that once we have the means to find him in his present state, he’s even more unfindable.

Inevitably meaning that I’ll be viewed as a dumb, neurotic bunny and any further attempts to raise this issue will be played down, seeing as we tried it once and I was ‘proven wrong’.

For now though, I aim to do as much as I can starting with interviewing the suspects and witnesses in and around the orphanage. While I’ll only do summaries in here, the full interviews will of course be recorded and available for further review.

.

Mrs Brison: head of the orphanage.

Went home at 20:00 on the night of the incident, as she does every night (stated that she begins tidying up her pens and papers when the grandfather clock starts to ring, leaves her desk on the first hour chime and exits the house on the eighth (without fault)). Turned up for breakfast in the morning where she usually has a grass salad weighing exactly 3.62874KG with three dozen berries (reportedly Logan berries today, given that it’s a Saturday (I politely declined a full outline of her tri-weekly berry schedule)) and a dozen and a half cups of earl grey tea (no milk, no sugar). As one would expect, her morning affairs were disrupted seeing as the alarm had already been raised by this point in time.

Seemed stern and intimidating (and would likely do even if she were a shrew, yet alone the half-tonne Bison reality), her intensely radiating (but ever silent) presence almost turning the room black and white, though not cruel. I think ‘Gothic’ would be the best way to describe her, like that octogenarian Red-Dear Doe in that period drama a dozen or so of my aunts watch. Her voice was strong, giving off the impression that if you did something even mildly bad then she could strike the fear of god into you, though there was definitely a hitch in her voice. Not so much compassion or grief, though she was upset and was concerned for the children’s whereabouts, but more like a slight had been done to her honour or something… It’s hard to explain.

Her responses to the questions sort of backed this up. She seemed hurt, though never emotional, but more by the fact that this thing happened to children under her watch, rather than just to those children (though she did seem completely sincere when she wished me good fortune in finding them). She then left, saying that hopefully she could at least use this to guilt-trip the orphanage trust managers into dropping the muzzle rule for any future Pred children. I wished her good fortune in said endeavour.

.

Mr Manny Guazu: assistant chef.

The only Pred around the area at that time of the evening. The maned Wolf (note to self: never invite this guy back to the burrow, given that the sight of a ‘giant Fox’ could likely give Grandpa Maxwell multiple heart attacks) was in charge of Predator food (in particular, recipes that are easy to eat through muzzles (I again took this time to report my concern at this particular policy, and the damage/unnecessary cruelty it creates)). Seemed nervous, meek, but friendly. Visibly very shaken by the whole incident, his eyes were still red and he was having trouble speaking. He ended up practically begging me to help find them, though he seemed to be holding back due to his collar going orange. I paused when I saw that, before carrying on. It must be faulty, misreading his grief and worry as aggressive emotions. He’ll likely be able to get a replacement one later today though. Anyway, he was reportedly in there until 22:00, though he heard nothing. He did, however, report a faint whiff of what he thought was alpaca musk.

.

Matron Linda Llama: one of three matrons at the facility.

The only person who was there all night, and thus most likely to hear any intruders. States that she fell asleep at some time after 23:00 hours, but cannot recall the initial time. Waking up in the morning, it was she who first discovered the missing children when she checked in on Anita’s room, waking the children up for morning inspection and breakfast. Fearing an abduction, she checked on the other’s rooms and found they were gone too, before raising the alarm. While cool on the surface, she was fidgeting with anything she could get her hands on, likely shaken by the whole thing but trying hard to keep it under the surface. Given that she had the highest duty of care over these four, she must be really messed up right now.

.

Chef Porkins: head chef.

Arrived at about 6:00 to start preparing breakfast. Noted nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to note with him, bar the fact that his appearance, smell and general demeanour mean that any previous attractive leanings that I had to any member of the porcine family are now gone, even if they do have two small tusks which are somehow _just right._

…OK, maybe in that case they could recover given enough time and distance.

.

Mrs Elaine ‘the pain’ Muskrat: chief social worker.

Worked up until late at night, before returning home. Returned to the orphanage after receiving a phone call at about 10:00 in the morning. Note: this one may have inadvertently irritated the children into accepting a call from the Knights of the muzzle, even if they were completely up front about what horrible deeds they do and then some. This is one who really gets your nose twitching and foot tapping. She dresses and acts innocently enough, but her voice and her eagerness seem to be like that of an alien who has read about the concept of friendliness and caring in a book, before giving out her own uncanny valley interpretation of it all turned up to eleven. Sure, she’s likely a very nice person and probably (with the exception of Mr Guazu) the one who had the most (and very much genuine) affection for the four missing children. However, something about her is so off-putting and skin crawlingly awkward that being roasted over an open coal fire (or moving back with Bucky and Pronk, note: not next door, ACTUALLY WITH) seems like the infinitely more pleasurable option to spending time with her. I can think of no-one, bar potentially Mr Vulpes, who I’d less like to spend time with.

Talking with a few of the other kids, she’s the butt of all pranks, reportedly getting gunged three times in one night by someone with a gunk-cannon. I know I should condemn this…

However, I couldn’t help but open up my smartphone and find a superior gunge recipe for them. They then said that it wasn’t them who did it and I asked out loud who did. Strangely, all the kids were very quiet, and as I heard someone very big behind me say, “that would be me, I despise that infuriating rodent with every bone in my body…” It was then that the silence, along with the odd reduction in temperature of the room, made sense.

It was Mrs Brison.

.

Other orphans:

Policy (dictated by the orphanage trust managers) states that no Preds can share rooms with Prey, henceforth there were no roommates to listen in and detect/ witness what was going on. While we did interview all of them, they stated that they heard nothing. (Note: one did report a laser battle, along with a flock of exploding kamikaze crows under the command of an Islambic Barbary Lion named ‘Brother Fasil’, apparently one of a ‘quartet of five’ (including a donkey with learning difficulties). I believe that it’s safe to assume that that was a dream).

.

.

As you can see from above, none of the staff in charge noticed anything out of the usual. Thankfully, however, one of the cleaners stated that a staff bathroom window on the first floor was open. At first, she noted the coldness of the room and closed the window (reportedly assuming that someone had undergone a ‘mass colonal evacuation’ during the night). Given time, however, she realised that this was a potential lead and reported it. I’m currently leaving to investigate this area.

.

* * *

 

.

Our initial hypothesis seems to be confirmed, as we spotted a small trace of blood on one of the latches, which is currently undergoing tests. Opening the window, I also spotted a small strand of white hair on the sill, which I suspect came from poor Vasil Snowpaw.

In addition, there is a large snow pile beneath the window, which could easily be jumped down into without causing any pain or harm. While we don’t have any evidence yet, I plan to join in with a bunch of experts and whittle away at the snow which has fallen in the meantime. One of our colleagues from the Tundratown Precinct states that they can uncover the compacted layers of snow caused by such a heavy impact. At the same time, we have also called in a sniffing boar to try and track down any scent trails. Admittedly, I wish we could get a wolf or something, who would have a better sniffer. Sadly however, all sniffer units have to be registered police officers first, which negates out all Preds.

Anyway, I plan to carry on my notes when they arrive.

.

* * *

 

.

Three core points:

  1. Our snow expert uncovered some of the fresher snow and was able to confirm that this snow pile had been used by the falling mammals. While the largest impact was made by Vasil Snowpaw, and the deepest by Anita Fox, there was no evidence of any other mammal making the jump. We also spotted a few faint drops of blood which we believe to be from the same mammal as the one who stained the window latch.
  2. The blood analysis came through, confirming that said blood on the latch is polar bear blood. This seems to suggest that, as he was being forced out, Vasil cut himself.
  3. Our sniffer followed the four mammals tracks out, from the snow pile and to the edge of a nearby road. After that, it vanishes. No trace, no nothing…



At this point, I received news of a blood letter arriving at the ZPD. I signed off the site, while asking an assistant to plot various routes a car could use to escape this area.

.

* * *

 

.

Oh god…

.

I mean, I’d heard about these blood letters…

But seeing them for real?

Knowing that it’s written in the blood of poor, innocent children?

Here is the full transcript:

.

Dear ZPD.

As of tonight, four more chompers have been purged from our fair city.

Four more so called ‘mammals’, born to only hate and maim, have been put down.

It was a mercy.

A mercy that many of us believe is too good for them.

You swore to protect good, law abiding Prey mammals.

Yet you do not clamp down on those that are destined to be evil.

Destined to cause suffering.

That are barely evolved over savages, compared to the glorious Prey mammal.

The ZPD is not fit for purpose, only the Knights of the muzzle stand to protect the Prey.

Do not get in our way.

.

The whole thing is typed up, on a typewriter of all things, evidently to stop handwriting analysis (or to save on printer ink). Like all others, we’ll be scouring it to find any DNA other than that of those who were bled to write in. But like all the times before, I suspect we’ll get nothing other than the blood of Anita, Ronald, Remmy and Vasil.

A few notes more, and a look at the traffic cams, and then I’ll call it in for a night.

.

* * *

 

.

Testing… Testing… OK! Might as well try my new audio recorder, even though I find writing things out more therapeutic. This one seems to be working well, so…

For the last two hours or so, I’ve been scanning through the five sets of traffic cams that cover all exits from the orphanages. I’m looking through the final one now…

Three vehicles have all gone past in the right direction, or at least three which I could properly see. None of them had any evidence of any wrongdoing in them and…

Hang on!

Fourth car incoming. It’s just past midnight and we’ve got a good angle. I can’t see the driver, but in the backseat I can see a small speck of…..

Red fur?

Huh!

Seems to be a Fox, who is standing up in his car rather than sitting down. Moreover, I think I see a tiny bit of white. Moreover, a slightly rounded white at a weird angle, like a Polar Bear. I can’t confirm it, but still. My alarm bells are ringing.

What are you up to Mr…

.

Vulpes?

.

No…. It can’t be…

.

But this Fox appears to be male, has the same colouration… Mr Vulpes had a black tipped tail, which only about five percent of Foxes do. If I got spot this Fox’s eyes, then…

.

Green…

.

The eyes are Green!

.

Yes, there are likely many, many Foxes with green eyes and dark tipped tails…

Or, seeing as there’s only about two hundred thousand Vulpes Vulpes in the city, and green eyes may also be five percent…

Yes, even if it’s only a one in five hundred chance, even before the use of stuff like fur-dye, this is the best lead we have and I’m gonna track it down. I’ve put in a request for all the details on this guy, and he’ll be in for an interview early tomorrow.

.

Time’s up Slick Nick.

Let’s see if we can’t make you squawk!


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26:**

.

**_May, 2002_ **

.

“ _Nick…_ ”

.

“ _Nick…_ ”

.

“ _Nick…_ ”

.

 _“_ Urghhhh…”

_._

“ _Wake up_ _Nick…_ ”

.

Groaning, I slowly began to come to my senses. I felt my warm body shift and turn. My fleeting feelings returning to me, I recognised that I was nestled underneath the light blanket that covered me and above the soft warm pillow beneath me. Nothing out of usual there.

There was also the cutting of the wicker to my side, pushing through my fur and onto my skin as I was nudged into it again and again. That was unusual. Most unusual of all though was the kneading of little paws into my shoulder as they tried to shake me awake and the soft quiet voice that was gently trying to prise me from my slumber. My eyes began to flutter open, letting the bright light of the morning come in, completely unabated.

.

Evidently, she’d long since pulled my blanket off my face and taken off my sleeping mask.

.

“Nick, wake up…”

“YES Lynn,” I groaned out as I finally put the effort in to get myself up. Uncoiling myself, though my Sister’s best efforts had already done most of the job, I grabbed the sides of my basket with my paws and pushed up, letting my blanket slink off from the top of my shoulders and fold down into a slump of fabric covering my tail. The strain of the rise, along with the glare of the bright sunlight coming in the window certainly made me dizzy, and I shook about for a second or two before my muzzle strained open to let out a long, deafening yawn. It felt good, as if I was exhaling all the stale air I’d breathed in the night before and inhaling fresh stuff from this morning, the cool breeze chilling down the moist edges of my teeth as it passed them. The muscles and sinews at the base of my jaw were stretched to their limits, the aches coming out of them as they trembled not painful, but rather satisfying, invigorating, awakening. I was about to carry on with stretches like those, with my arms and legs and back, stretching the desire to crawl back into my basket out of me.

Sadly, Lynn was very good at catching things, as many ball games had shown. Her catching skills were very adaptable and, in this case, she caught my highly contagious yawn in an instant.

Before I could so much as place an arm behind my head and bend to the side, her eyes were closed and her tiny, stubby little muzzle peeled open in a quick, soft tribute to my own roar. Pausing, I looked on and smiled as she brought her tiny paws up to her closed eyes and rubbed her eyelids, telling me quite clearly that she wasn’t as awake as she’d like me to think she was.

_It was cute…_

Finally bringing herself back down from her yawn, her eyes opened to reveal the honey like amber irises inside. She stood in her light pink nighty, loosely falling from her shoulders and billowing down her arms, ending up in a soft frilled hem that ended just above her ankles. I sighed, knowing that soon I’d be taking it apart and adding new bits of fabric. Lengthening it. Widening it. Making sure that it was always ahead of her in the race to grow. She’d asked if she could have a different coloured stripe this time, compared to the pink ones I’d added ever since I made it for her fourth birthday. It should have been easy, just she and I down in the shop, choosing a fabric. Of course, she changed her mind every time I asked her what colour she wanted, which complicated matters. Maybe I should just let it hang short? Regardless of its future, there was one unequivocal fact about her in that dress that overruled every other thought.

_It's very cute…_

Stretching my muscles up I reached my full height, towering over her to the point where I could see her little tail poking out of its hole at the back, swishing this way and that like there was no care in the world. She peeked to the side of my stomach, likely spotting my tail swishing back and forth too, before she looked up at me with her happy eyes and smiled.

Smiled big…

Smiled wide…

Smiled with a great big goofy lower fang snaggletooth sticking right out of her jaw. It wasn’t a giant one that needed braces (or the closest equivalent we could make here). It wasn’t a tiny little one like my old one on the top right of my mouth, which I grew out of as my muzzle got longer through my puberty. Instead it bumped up her gums, making her mouth go crooked in a silly way as it reached up to the second of her four rows of whiskers. In short, it was cute…

_Indescribably cute…_

“Lynn, your…” I quietly mentioned while pointing a claw at her. I didn’t have to finish the sentence, my sister (dripping in Wilde sass as usual) rolling her eyes and pulling her snaggletooth back in quickly. Now it was time for me to roll me eyes, as I stepped out of my basket and knelt down so that our heads were level, noses almost touching. “You didn’t have to fix that you know?”

“I know,” she mumbled back, before I leaned in and gently bopped her nose with mine, before rubbing it gently against hers. She smiled and returned the favour, our noses booping and wiggling about against each others, all while I took some deep sniffs of her scent.

The scents meant a lot. When I was younger, Mum and Dad’s scents had always been comforting, making me feel safe and protected from the world outside. As I’d grown up, something else in their scents had come up, an urge to protect them as well. Lynn’s scent was almost all that latter urge. To protect, to shield, to keep safe and love. Even now, to fail to do so seemed like it would rip my heart asunder, though I knew that I could be completely nose blind and would still feel that way. I was pretty sure that sniffing my scent, she’d be feeling safe and secure and loved. No matter what flavour, these scents were all scents of love.

So, it came as no surprise when Lynn leaned forward, raising herself up on the tips of her toes, and kissed the end of my nose. Smiling out wide, I kissed her on the cheek in return and raised up my hand to pet her, using my claws and running them through her russet fur to massage her scalp, treating her to some more morning TLC. Her tail wagged faster, swishing back and forth audibly, before my doting grin went cunning as I brought my other paw into the side of her chest, claws all out in attack formation. Her muzzle went out wide into an open toothy grin while she chuckled and giggled and laughed at her tickling, before burrowing her head into my chest fur. I let go, moving my hand to pat her back while she turned her head and rubbed, letting her cheek smush into my musky warmth, all while I smiled back in happiness.

I loved my little sister, ten-and-a-half-year age gap regardless.

“We better get going soon for breakfast, shouldn’t we Sis,” I whispered into her ear, my voice making it flick and wiggle to and fro.

“Uh-hu,” she mumbled back, before letting go. With a wave of my paw she was hopping and skipping out of my room, before turning towards her own as she entered the corridor. I watched as the last wisp of white on the end of her tail vanished, along with the last flutter of her pink nighty, before I stood up to close the door.

A quick yarn escaping me, I began my mourning routine in earnest as I stretched. First my arms and then my legs, I made sure to work them and pull them hard, the cold ache helping to push away the sleepiness still left inside me. Then came a dozen star jumps, a quick exercise to get the blood pumping.

A little spike of adrenaline…

A nice push against the lingering tiredness.

To top it off, I wandered over to a thick clay jug on a waiting table and poured some cool water into a bowl. My paws went in, my fur soaking down to the skin and pads chilling out, before I brought them up to my face. Splashing the area around my eyes with the cold liquid, I felt a tingle go down my spine as I finally became awake enough to reasonably function. It just about worked, though we made do and mend, as with all things in life. It was nothing compare to the few times we’d got coffee though, Dad brewing it up and sharing it with me on a freezing winters morning. Now that was a morning routine I could truly endorse!

Turning away, I grabbed a towel and furiously dried myself, rubbing the wet out of me until it became just a lingering damp that clinged on, before grabbing a brush and working on my fur. A brief tidy up here, some quick work down there and a few good runs everywhere else, from toe and tail-tip to my nape and crown. Checking over my work so far, I grabbed a finer comb and began with stage two, a more careful straightening down of my face and ear fur in front of a small mirror that was quickly finished, before it was finally time to get dressed. Off came my musty white linen boxers, before a fresh pair went on. Then came the trousers, made of more linen which had been woven as if making jeans. They had once been crisp like them too, but were now well worn in and soft, the knee pads thin and frayed. Red fur would be sticking out of them, if it weren’t for the repeated shreds of spare fabric I’d sewn on the inside to take the wear and tear instead. Truth be told, given the blue dying of the warp thread (courtesy of some left-over blueberries that tragically went mouldy), it would take a good hard look to distinguish the fabric of them from real denim.

After that came a white collared shirt, completed with thick bronze buttons we’d cast ourselves years back, and a tough jacket made of the same faux denim as my trousers. A quick adjustment here and there, and then it was out and across to Lynn’s room to see how she was doing. Waiting in the central corridor of the top floor, I rocked on my toes as I gave a quick knock on her door.

Silence.

Flicking my mouth around, I looked here and there at the pictures, artwork and embroidery that covered the otherwise austere grey wooden walls. There were pictures too, small polaroid snaps that were neatly framed and chronicled both our previous life in Zootopia and our one here. I preferred the latter ones far more, the small glossy pictures which showed all four of us, growing and playing and celebrating as the blissful years sailed past. My gaze lingered on one in particular, Lynn’s first birthday. Dressed up in a pretty dandelion-yellow dress, she was crawling about on all four paws, a giant smile on her face as she chased a chew toy that I was dragging along the floor by a length of string. Even now, I remembered how I was coaxing her into pouncing on it, either flicking it away before she caught it or letting her bite and chew for a bit. Just after the picture was taken, she’d done a huge lunge and caught the toy firmly in her teeth, her grip so hard that I dragged both her and the rug she was on halfway across the room before the string finally broke. Relenting, and acting on advice from Mum and Dad, I let her savour her win. Back in the present I couldn’t help but giggle at how she’d trotted off with the toy in her mouth before jumping straight into the wood basket lying by the fire, where she’d curled up and fell asleep.

I turned back to the door and knocked again, before pausing for a moment. Turning my ears to listen in and taking a tentative sniff, I couldn’t help but sigh in annoyance as I realised what had happened. I turned and marched down the corridor, already hearing her purr’s, before I went through the kitchen area and then down the stairs into the lounge, before setting my eyes on Lynn.  As always in the mornings, she was cuddled up and receiving a deep tail preening from Mum, her muzzle currently buried deep in my sister’s fur as it did its work.

“I see you two are occupied,” I muttered as I went past, only for Lynn to hear me and look up.

“Jealous!” she called out, before giving an exaugurated scowl, her tongue sticking out and blowing a loud, wet raspberry. I knew not to react, but there was one mammal in the room who certainly would.

“Lynn!”

That stopped her.

“Really, a young lady shouldn’t be doing that, should she?” Mum continued, as the seven-year-old kit looked away and fidgeted. As she let the guilt drip into her, my Mum turned to face me, shrugging as she did so while letting a faint, sly smile grow across her muzzle. “Nick, should I carry on preening her? Or should I just give her a brush, tell her to get on with it by herself and do you instead?”

I paused, tapping my foot and lifting my head high, acting out as if I had a big decision to make. Sure, I still enjoyed the occasional preening from Mum if I was tired or ill. It was like a deep, deep hug or cuddle (only better). But while I had nothing against a bit of TLC now, there was no way anyone could argue with Lynn’s puppy dog eyes which were begging as hard as they could at the moment. I added a few ‘hmmmm’s’ here and there, as if I was acting out a great debate in my mind. I let the deception go on for a little bit longer, milking it for all it was worth, before finally putting her out of her misery.

“Carry on Mum,” I said with a wave, as Lynn spoke out.

“Thank you, Nick!”

Bowing, I raised my paw to doff in imaginary cap while putting on my poshest voice possible. “You’re most welcome lil’ Sis.”

I lingered for a second or two, watching Mum bend back down with her tongue out as she set about the noisy work of preening Lynn’s leg fur. Working hard and dutifully, using her teeth on the odd occasion, she worked up Lynn’s right leg, not even pausing for a second as she moved her felt dress (made from shed tiger fur, hence the very fetching marbled orange, white and black pattern) out of the way. Smiling a bit as I watched two of the most important Vixens in my life enjoy themselves, I turned and walked into the front room.

.

“Morning Son.”

“Morning Paps,” I shot back as I turned to look at the heavy bolts of fabric hanging up on the wall. While we were limited on materials and dyes, we made the most of what we had and, by and large, did well. Certainly, none of our customers complained.

“I haven’t heard you call me that name in a long time,” I heard him say, chuckling at the end as he did so.

I shrugged, before turning around to face him with a smile. “You wound me father,” I said, my voice laced with mock outrage as I placed my paw over my theatrically pained heart. “That you would ever think I would knowingly not call you by that name I know you love.”

“I know,” he replied, his dark maroon paws waving up in the air as he spoke. “It still remains the cutest mistake you ever made.”

“Pardon?” I asked, my ears flicking at this sudden strange news. Dad, meanwhile, remained unfazed, letting out a soft chuckle before speaking.

“Back when you were a baby Kit, I thought it would be cute if would call me Pop’s… It really took you years to get hang of your O’s though, didn’t it?”

My whole world rotated to the side as my head tilted sharply to the side, my mouth puckering with thought before I replied back. “Maybe I just misheard you the first time?”

“No,” he said, the back of his head shaking as he did so. “I still remember your mother joking about how you’d confuse any nearby Bunnies if you tried to say Robot in public.”

“Touché,” I replied with a soft shrug, my head righting as it did so. “Though to be fair, Pap’s sounds better than Pop’s. The first is short for Papa, isn’t it? That’s where I always thought I got it from. Pop’s though… that’s the sound you get when making popcorn.”

There was a soft chuckle as Dad turned to face me, his burly but loving face and warm amber eyes looking over at me. He smiled, before speaking on. “I’m not complaining, I think I loved Pap’s far more than Pop’s, given that it was your own cute invention… though I think your observations are quite astute. Anyway, I may need your help with the sail Son. Stay over there for now, though step in if I look like I’m struggling.”

Across the tables, chests and racks that filled the room, I watched as my Dad bent down and picked up a huge bundle of cloth before hauling it towards one of his sewing machines, before I stepped forwards to handle it with him. Grabbing one end of the huge pile and taking some of the strain, we pushed up hard together to lift the thick sheet up onto one of the large tables, before I bent down to help him look through it.

“Ben said that there was a small rip,” I mumbled, as we finally exposed the area where a sheet was peeling off, a triangle of loose fabric torn from the rest with tails of the binding thread still attached, trailing off like ribbons from a dress.

“That’s right,” Dad replied, nodding as he brought out a magnifying glass and dove in to look closer. “What do you think?”

I paused, tapping my foot on the floor before coming to a decision. “While we could resew it, it’ll be weakened around that area and could tear again under high winds. I say we should resew, but also reinforce it by sandwiching it into two leftover sheets.”

“Sounds about right,” Dad muttered as he wandered over to a chest and brought out two shreds of tough fabric. “Does Ben care whether his sails look good or not?”

I paused, thinking about how the fit, lithe cheetah would respond to his boat getting a patchwork sail. Many who met him a few times might sit on the fence on this issue but me, being one of his long-term friends, knew differently. “To be honest, he quite likes cute things,” I said, shrugging as I did so. “A bit of off-colour patchwork will certainly make his boat look that way.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dad said, before taking the scraps and placing them on his table. Like him, I knew how to make and mend sails, so as he prepared the sheets I brought out a big needle and a roll of thick, tough twine. With a sail, it was durability that mattered, not looks. Threading the needle with the twine and pulling it back far, I passed it over to Dad and he set to work, rapidly binding the thing back together again.

“Need any help with things today?” I asked, gently bouncing up and down on my toes as I waited for a reply. With all the work I’d done in past days around the store, I was expecting to get a free pass on this day in particular. I had something special planned, and already felt the excitement begin to tingle through me, although it could have just been the effects of me holding back for the last few weeks. As Dad paused and ran his claws along his muzzle, thinking everything over, I remembered all the effort put into planning a slew of hints and off handed remarks. I just hoped he’d caught on, almost as much as I’d hoped that he hadn’t. While I was very confident in my ability to toe the fine line, this was my Dad I was thinking about, meaning the line might not even exist.

Finally he shrugged, looking over to me as he casually replied back. “No, have the day off Son.” I couldn’t help but give a little fist bump in celebration. In reality, it took a whole lot of effort to not jump up and shout from joy. But he seemed not to know, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Though Mum has the usual delivery to the creamery today, so if you could…”

“Get Lynn breakfast and drop her off?” I asked, though I knew the answer that was coming.

“Of, course.”

“Right on it, Paps!” With a mock salute and a big grin I was off, back into the lounge where Mum had finished with Lynn. My sister was already picking up her bags and books, as always crumpled in a pile under the stairs, left there after a frustrating night of stumbling through several homework assignments that had been left to the last minute in the vain hope that they’d just go away. Meanwhile, having finished preening Lynn, Mum was grabbing one of the metal cans kept in the corner of the room, ready to take it up to her bedroom and fill it in private. Ever since she’d weaned Lynn off five or so years ago, she’d carried on milking herself and selling her produce to the town dairy, just like many other new mothers around the town. If we wanted milk, we had to get it from somewhere, didn’t we? Regardless, it paid well and certainly went most of the way to funding the cheeses and such that we enjoyed every now and again. As far as I cared, it was worth it just to get the buttermilk that made our margarine enjoyable for a change, the taste finally the same as the old Zootopian stuff rather than the tasteless spread we used to make. Then again, I wasn’t the one milking myself was I? Though, as far as I could see, Mum sort of enjoyed the morning and evening routine, especially when it meant meeting up and chatting with the others in her milking group.

Speaking of which…

As she stood up I walked over to her and gave her a soft hug, patting her gently on the shoulder and letting our cheeks rub gently against each other as we silently embraced. I pulled back, quickly spotting the smile on her muzzle before I tipped my head down and gave the tip of her nose a gentle peck. Just as I pulled out, Lynn came in and gave Mum a great big hug around her waist. Mum hugged back and, after wishing her a good day at school, I grabbed her paw and led her out. We walked out through the front door, albeit after a quick detour so that Lynn could hug Dad and I could grab a bulky backpack I’d prepared last night, and both took in a deep breath of the clear summer morning air before together we made our way onwards. Both of us with a spring in our step.

.

Unbeknownst to me, as the door closed Mum leant into the front room to have a quick conversation with Dad. There were some gestures, some pointing at their noses, some laughs and some reminiscing of times long gone by. Over five minutes of discussion, which would certainly take the spring from my step had I overheard it, they fought to hold back both their tears, their giggles and their rolling eyes. I never learned the bulk of it, and they would soon forget most of it, but it ended when Mum left to start on her milking, agreeing with Dad that after dropping the stuff off at the dairy it would be a good idea to bring an Ice-pack back with her.

.

.

“Got any good lessons today?”

“Art!” Lynn almost shouted out, jumping and hopping as she held up her paws and stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration, miming out her paw-pad painting. She loved doing it, even though it always ended up with her being marched off for a shower afterwards to get all the paint out of her fur.

“Got your painting clothes?” I asked, before she opened up her bag and pulled out the top of a thick apron, covered in multiple splodges of paint which would otherwise end up staining her clothes. “And any ideas on what you’ll be painting today?”

She paused, stopping in the road as she began to think. I humoured her for a minute or so as she pondered whether to do another flower meadow, or a new type of mammal, or ‘messy-messy jumble thing(TM)’.

“… The Sea!” she suddenly spurted out, before carrying on forwards with me.

“Anything else?”

“Maths and English,” she said back, with a confident smile.

“Good for you Sis. What about your friends, looking forward to seeing them?”

“Danny and Alice will be there, but so will Amy…” she replied, the soft growl given as she spoke the last name evidence enough of the animosity between her and the young Coyote Pup.

“And what are you gonna do if you and Amy get into an argument.”

“… I’m gonna scare her away!”

“Oh really?” I sassed, taking the time to pause and cross my arms against my chest, rapping my foot claws on the ground as I waited for her reply. “Because last time I looked Coyotes are bigger than Foxes.”

“But I can scream!” she shouted out, her teeth baring as she prepared. I couldn’t help but cock my head at the sight of her, the little bundle of fluff with all her hairs on end and a rumbling growl coming out of her mouth. So lovely at home, but she already had a mortal enemy out in the real world. I didn’t want my ears to get assaulted by one of her piercing jagged screams, so it was evidently time to distract her.

“What about history?” I asked.

She paused for a moment, her hatred for her classmate dissolving as she thought for a moment, before shrugging. “Not too bad.”

“Oh really,” I asked back, my eyebrows raising at her statement. “When I was your age, I used to HATE history.”

“I like the stories,” she replied. “About Dad, though they do get a bit boring cuz’ he already told me…”

“About the boat and leaving the city?”

“Yeah, about that,” she replied, as she carried on hopping and skipping down the street in front of me.

“And you wouldn’t be interested in talking to your big brother about it?” I called out, “your big brother who lived through it all and saw this town getting built?”

“No!” she shouted back, evidently not meaning to hurt me but never the less being mean in the kind of crude, blunt way that all kids can be. I planned to chide her for that, only for it to be a moot point as Lynn made her way to the bakery. Already the order of blueberry pie was being given and, by the time I got there, all that was needed was payment.

“Two dollars,” the (normal/ non-Honey) Badger behind the desk asked, as I brought out the two coins required. Handing them over, the crocodiles on their upper surface showing briefly before a paw took them, I picked up the pies for my Sister and I before we set off again. Back out onto the original shopping arcade in front of the town hall, where fellow Preds were moving about and chatting in great numbers, we settled down on a small stone bench overlooking the busy park and began eating.

It was just over nine years since we’d moved here, my eighteenth having only just passed the month before and Lynn’s eight a week ago, and boy our town had grown. At least seven thousand Preds now lived in the village, with at least ten dozen of them being born there, such as Lynn. The old ways of doing things, by talking and discussing and picking up your own share of work had long since become ineffective. To solve it my Dad, who had transferred from the position of unofficial mayor to official (with a landslide, might I add), had decided to bring in a currency to make things easier. At first I didn’t understand why we used Reptoslavian currency rather than Zootopian notes. Years later, as I whittled away the hours of winter reading in front of a hot fire or up in the town library, I learned about the concepts of economics and finally understood. Basically, should someone come over with plenty of Zootopian money, they would be richer than the mammals over here. However, as nothing new would be being built or made, you would have more money chasing after less stuff. That meant the money would be worth less and thus everyone would get poorer. By using Reptoslav currency, however, we could control how much money we had and thus how much it was worth.

Of course, there were more complex things such as how you made sure everyone paid fair taxes, now needed since we’d started up schools and stuff, but those in charge had sorted something out, the mechanics of which was worth pondering about on another day. I couldn’t help but worry on a few occasions that I’d get confused and miss a few important payments or something by mistake, though Dad assured me that he’d explain everything for me when the time was right and that I wouldn’t be pulled over one day in the public and get charged with tax evasion or something.

Shaking my head, I cleared those thoughts because for now, in the soft warm sunlight and the cool breeze, it was time to sit down, relax and eat some hot blueberry pie with my sister. Slowly but surely chewing, tasting and swallowing the pie, I let the delicious tart sweetness of the filling or warm crumbly softness of the pastry fill my mouth, before I turned to check over at her. Sure as certain, she was busy gobbling out the filling in the middle, the pastry casing left empty to its sides. As I finished my own pie, she finished hers and handed me the pastry that was left, which I readily ate up myself.

Already, there was a murmur building up at the school, built across the river to the west of the town hall, as Kits and cubs arrived and began playing. Looking over at Lynn, I saw her stand up ready to go and had to lean in to stop her, my paw on her shoulder keeping her rooted to the ground.

“You got a little on your fur,” I mentioned, before my tongue was out and I began furiously cleaning the soaking blue mass around her muzzle. As I loudly continued my work, sucking and licking, she gave a tiny giggle or chuckle at the affectionate preening. I didn’t take long, although it seemed to take just a moment, but soon she was clean and I had a nice little extra taste of blueberry on my tongue. Taking my muzzle back from hers, I was able to look at her in the face, her red and white mask perfectly framed against the town hall behind us. Then she leaned forward and licked me, giggling as she did so.

“You too!”

I chuckled, before taking her little paw in my own and standing up, ready to lead her on. “Thank you, Sis. But you’re still the messy one in the family.”

“Says you!”

“Says me,” I sighed, “along with everyone else in the town.”

Lynn evidently missed that, instead taking the time to jump, hop and skip around me. I let go of her, letting her loose for a second, before lunging and grabbing hold of her again before she jumped straight into a puddle of mud.

‘ _Most definitely the messy one’,_ I thought to myself. Who knows though? Maybe it was all a clever ploy to get more cleanings from Mum?

It didn’t take long, and soon we arrived at the gates of the school and Lynn ran off, giving a quick wave back to me as she did so in order to join a game of hopscotch with her friends. Moving to the side of the gate, I waited and watched her play, taking note of the other children going in. It had been five minutes, in which time I’d still not seen the expected confrontation between Lynn and Amy, before I was waked from my trance by a familiar voice.

“Nick Wilde!”

My ears pricking at the sound of my name, I turned to look up at Mrs Clawhauser who was on the other side of the wall.

“How’s it doing Mrs C?” I warmly asked, as the cheetah settled herself down in front of me. When we got our first teacher over, Ben’s mother had joined him in teaching the kids. The teaching roster had grown since then, and did the bulk of the important stuff you needed to know. I’d gotten a few years of intensive remedial classes back then, several from Mrs C herself, before being let loose. As it was with the older teens, as long as you were learning or doing something useful, people didn’t mind if you weren’t learning how to do calculus or stuff.

“Oh, so-so. And you?”

“Good,” I answered back. “Learned all the tricks of my Dad’s trade and such, still nothing as exciting as what your Ben’s doing.”

“Well,” she said, shrugging as she did so. “I suppose it’s good that he’s out and about. Need someone to explore the islands, but I can’t help but worry about his next planned outing…”

“Oh, it’s just the west island, it’s not as if dragons be there,” I replied, remembering the time I’d spent talking to my spotted friend about all the work he’d been doing to map and explore the islands we called home. His work on the mountains to the north had already payed dividends for our energy supply, while his survey along the west coast had found outcroppings of limestone, letting us make our own cement rather than relying on secret imports from Zootopia. Most of all, there were different ore deposits peppered around the coast and river, many of which had had mining started on them to some degree or other. The whole exploring lark wasn’t my cup of tea, but Ben loved it while Honey was a great help with all the gear and equipment she’d designed. What was most exciting was just how little of the islands were actually mapped or explored, something which the planned survey to the west island would help remedy. I glanced over, peering through a gap between the school buildings and spotting the smudge of the grey and green hills and mountains of the west island on the horizon, little more than thirty miles away. I couldn’t help but imagine Ben and a few others landing there and exploring, testing for minerals and stuff using the tools Honey had made for him. Thinking about those two….

“What do you think of Honeyhauser?”

“Pardon?”

“You know,” I said, shrugging as I did so. “Ben and Honey. I think they’re rather cute together!”

Mrs Clawhauser paused, pondering a bit before shrugging back in return. “I suppose, but still… no Grandkittens… Anyway, what about you? There has to be something interesting that you’ve done?”

“Nothing really,” I replied, before turning away as my nose caught a familiar scent, drifting towards us on the wind. Looking up, I spotted the familiar silver pelt of Mrs Vulpes coming closer. Turning to Mrs Clawhauser, I quickly fished into my pockets and retrieved a letter, before pressing to her.

“Can you give this to Mrs Vulpes please?”

She paused, before nodding, and then I set off. Turning away from the school gates, I passed Mrs Vulpes and flicked her a quick smile and a hint that Mrs Clawhauser wanted to talk to her, before I made my way towards the bridge over the river, coming just in time to see a train stop there.

.

While Finnick and I had followed our parents trade, and Clawhauser had become an explorer, Honey Badger had become Al the Wolf’s apprentice. As he had overseen new homes and technology, along with a fully furnished workshop complete with forges, smelting equipment and lathes, Honey had picked up everything he knew; everything our resident mechanics, chemists or electricians knew and far, far more. She’d read up, tinkered and experimented. Borrowing from ancient techniques, she’d built a new fleet of wood fishing boats for us. She’d then designed and built her own steam engines, one of which would drive Ben’s boat across the straits to the west island. While she hadn’t managed generators and full scale water turbines yet, good chunks of manual work like grinding flour or cutting timber was done by the watermill she’d designed on the main river, built to work both when the flow was emptying out into the bay and when the tide reversed it. Her craziest creation so far, however, was actually brought in piece by piece from Zootopia as a special order. Like the remote controlled airplane old Mr Ibn-Zerdain had used years ago to survey the island for a landing spot, Elephant markets were excellent sources of tech. For instance, a large scale or ride-on model trainset for Elephants could easily carry any and all types of Predators. I still remembered what I’d said when I first heard of her plan.

.

.

.

“You’re crazy!”

Undeterred by my opinions, Honey kept her head down, sparks flying off from a welding torch as she joined several sets of home-cast bars together to form the base of what would be a power saw. Not wanting the already painful bright lights anywhere near my sensitive eyes, I stayed firmly at the other end of the workshop, a huge square building built almost entirely made out of stone. Given all the sparks that flew around it, and the fact that we had some smelters next door, anything flammable was a no-go.

There was a brief pause as Honey’s work ended, her face mask rising up as she surveyed her work. I kept on standing still, leaning against the open doorway with the soft sound of the river and the rhythmic rumbling of the watermill behind me, before the mask went down and the sparks began again in earnest. I scowled, and this time shouted. “I said you’re crazy!”

…

“That’s idiot speak for I’m unambitious, Slick,” she called back after a short pause, never once away from her work.

“No Honeybun, it’s sensible speak for, you want to build us a railway when we can’t even make a glass window!”

The sparking stopped and Honey, grumbling as she did so, stood up and turned to face me, pulling her mask off to reveal the grumpiest face in mammalian history. “You just can’t let that go, can you!” she huffed as she threw her tools down and began walking over. I walked over to meet her, ready to apologise for bringing up the debacle that had been our recent attempts to blow glass, only to be pushed back hard as Honey kept on moving forward.

“Honey!” I urged, only to be pushed back again as Honey continued marching forward.

“It wasn’t my fault the furnace cracked, was it?”

“Honey…”

“Wasn’t my fault some numb-nut thought it was a good idea to put it out by throwing water all over it, was it?”

“Honeybun…”

“Don’t you Honeybun me, Slick!”

“But…”

“But, Nothing!” she practically shouted as she forced me out of the workshop and onto the covered decking that surrounded it. I kept on walking backwards, only noticing that I was under one of the arches that made up the veranda when I hit the wooden railing and my head flew back, my vision filling up with sky as my ears picked up the sound of water beneath me. Glancing to my side, I saw the fast chopping of the waterwheel and, not wanting even the slightest of chances of ending up in there, bit my pride by yelling out.

“I’m sorry, that explosion wasn’t your fault! It was just some idiot! It was just some idiot! It was just some idiot….!”

…

After a few seconds of silence I tilted my head down back to the level and looked forwards, spotting the fuming Honey Badger in front of me. Her muzzle twitched a bit as if she were chewing, before she spat out. “And don’t you forget it!”

“I won’t!”

And with that, a giant smile returned to her face as she leant forward and grabbed me by my shirt, pulling me back into the workshop as she explained both her plan, and the reasoning behind it.

“As our town has grown,” she began to say, taking a second to glance at me and check that I was still listening. “It’s got harder and harder for smaller mammals to get around, hasn’t it?”

“I guess so,” I replied, admitting that some walks were a bit tiring.

“Well, we can solve that, can’t we? I got some orders in from the mainland, and we got these big model trainsets for Elephants. Not the things you have in your loft, mind you. Big ones for out in the garden, that the Elephants can ride on. Heck, had I wanted it I could have brought some real-life steam trains with ‘em too! Anyway, the way I see it is that if one of those can carry an elephant, a bit of jiggery pokery and some metalwork with the carriages and one of those can easily fit a bear or tiger into them!”

We came to a halt as Honey arrived at a large box that had just arrived on the latest boat and opened it with a knife from her tool belt. Tearing across the top, she grinned widely as she lifted out a section of metal and plastic track and let it drop hard on the floor. I couldn’t help but whistle in appreciation as I stepped into it, before lying down. My feet rested on one of the tracks, but not even the tips of my ears reached the other one.

“Not so crazy now, Huh?” Honey asked as sassily as possible, her paws on her hips as she looked down on me, an infuriatingly smug grin on her muzzle.

“OK,” I admitted, acknowledging that this wasn’t so much of a pipe dream after all. “But where will we place them?”

“Well we built the town between the two streams, didn’t we?”

“Most of it, yes. Though we have bits spilling out to the sides here and there.”

“And are those steams straight and flat?”

“I guess.”

“And what makes a good bit of land to put a railway on?”

I scowled, before admitting my defeat. “Well done, you put them over the streams.”

“What’s ‘you’re crazy’, Slick?”

“… Idiot speak for I’m unambitious,” I muttered, getting up as Honey descended into a rolling laugh. I had to admit though, it was a spark of genius. Glancing over to one of her drawing boards, I could see how she planned to cover over the culverts with wooden decking and, on top of that, built a double track line that followed one stream in from the outskirts, looped around the back of the town hall, and then followed the other one out.  Sure, each branch was only about one kilometre long, which was a twenty-minute walk for me or a ten minute one for a polar bear. But it would take someone like Finnick the best part of an hour, or more than that for someone like a weasel. The train, however, would do the same trip in less than three if Honey’s notes were right. Given that she had what looked like four locomotives, the wait for one wouldn’t be anything more than five minutes or something.

Credit due where credit was due, if Honey pulled this off I would definitely be impressed.

.

.

.

Back in the present and putting in my own fair, I entered one of the carriages and held on to a hand rest as we set off towards the edge of town. In little more than ten seconds, we’d reached top speed (something that only Ben could beat) and after a short moment we were then slowing down again. Coming to a stop at the second of the five stations on this branch, I spotted a few otters waiting for the down train before we were off once more. For such a small vehicle, the acceleration was scary. While the locomotives had been built to run off a very small amount of power, carried in the rails themselves, Honey had considered them rather ‘unambitious’ and slow in their original incarnation, in which they took at least three times as long to get anywhere. Henceforth, after the rather unsuccessful first year of rail operation (which barely covered the drivers wage costs), each one had a pole installed that connected to an overhead wire. Having mastered the art of making transformers, Honey charged the unassuming bit of copper to three times the standard mains voltage. After a lot of sparks and screams from the workshop, accompanied by nights spent banging about with a hammer, Honey produced the upgraded locomotives. The end result, according to her, was that they could each produce more power than anything back on the Zootopian roads bar a semi-truck. She even boasted that it could beat some small trains that ran on the mainland.

I made the joke that she was talking about the Little Rodentia express.

Back in the present, I couldn’t help but bend down and stroke my tail, reminiscing about my mistake.

Naturally, as with everything a bit OTT with that Honey badger’s paw marks all over it, I was a bit concerned. Did we really need it to go that fast? Did we really need them to be able to beat an Elephant in a tug of war competition? When I asked her quite why they needed so much power she just looked at me with such confusion and incredulity, it was as if I was asking why we left Zootopia in the first place. The short end of the stick was that, for her, having anything less than the maximum power output possible was a ludicrously pointless waste of time and effort.

My concerns were vindicated somewhat when I talked to Al, who was now the official town planner (with a medal thing and everything). He stated that if they were using that much power (which fortunately they didn’t, because out of utter concern he’d limited their acceleration, which meant they used a tenth at most) then one would use almost the whole of our original hydropower capacity, although over the years we’d vastly expanded how much we could generate, so it wasn’t much of a problem. Regardless of his fears about the towns resident mad engineer, I couldn’t help but notice how impressed he was about his little protégé. She’d already marked out the positions for extensions to the two lines, along with whole new ones that went east to west rather than north to south, some reaching across the river to take us to the fields and allotments. She’d asked for books on signalling technology to be brought over, while Al had planned out new housing plots, parks and streets around her new stations (with small mammal houses nice and close to them). She’d even been tinkering with some electronics from Zootopia, the idea being that you’d have a card with a credit balance on. That way, instead of fiddling about with change or paying a flat fair, you topped your card up and paid more the longer your journey was (or, what according to her was the more important factor, the less the shorter it was), all without labour and time that a manual ticket collection would need.

.

I offered to design a rail uniform for the train drivers…

.

Just putting it out there, I was not totally useless in this enterprise.

.

The fact that she said laughed, and then asked why on earth anyone would care about making them ‘all smartypants like’, doesn’t mean that she won’t come around. Just give her time… and then enter the tailor!

.

Which is totally as cool as being a mad engineer who designed a metro system when you were aged sixteen, while having an explorer boyfriend.

.

TOTALLY as cool…

I shook my head as I dismissed the thought, before hopping off as the train reached the end of the line. Turning, I looked north and set off with a spring in my step.

.

.

.

It was late in the morning by the time I’d reached my destination. The sun was blue, with thin wispy herringbone clouds high up in the sky, while the sun was coming out and getting warm. Very warm.

Soon after leaving the town, I’d followed the bare path that shot arrow straight up the mountain, cutting through the forests and boulder fields like a cleaver as it travelled on. Passing through them, the trees all resplendent with blossoms and new leaves, I’d come out onto the thin grass and heather moorland of the mountains themselves. From up here, bar the odd tree, it was bare all the way up. The path itself was on top of a rolling mammal-made ridge, grass and wildflowers having now colonised it, their sweet smells kicked up as I walked. They, just like the other meadows that surrounded it, rolled gently in waves from the tickling kiss of the wind. Insects chirped and hummed and sung, grasshoppers leaping out in front of me as they cleared out of the way, before settling down with one-another to eat, mate and sing.

Following the ridge, up and up and up, I finally reached its peak on a rough rock spur that separated the slope down to my village on the south to the small sheltered vale to the north. Looking back down at my home, I smiled at the sight. Our town, growing up towards me between the two streams, the town hall tiny yet still standing tall and dignified in the distance. There was a patch of green, the main park, placed in front of it. Even now I could see the stick figures of fellow Preds taking time out to enjoy it. The same could be said of the other parks, all smaller than the great one and spread about the town. Two in line with the first, circles that the towns central road travelled around on its way north, and two more out to the sides, perfect squares bordering the outer banks of the streams. All around them were the dark blue/grey roofs and walls of the houses, interspersed with the odd bit of wood from the occasional extension or log cabin. While the road surfaces were the same colour, hundreds of small fruit trees that had been planted along them turned each and every one green from up here. The whole place looked like a rubble wall, joined together with verdant green mortar.

Behind it all stood the bay, small enough from up here to block out with my two palms. The tide was out and the soft warm orange sand, riven with the neat lines of gnawed marker posts, was exposed for all to sea. Crawling in from the shoreline and into the great, seemingly never ending forests beyond were the fields of farmlands: brown, pale green or bright yellow with new spring growth that was slowly ripening.

And the air…

So fresh, so young and pure.

_‘Yes, life is good.’_

Turning the other way, I followed the dike down a short distance till I reached its end, a small blue lake. Water, freezing cold from the river roaring down into it from the mountain above, lay there as still as it could be. Crystal blue as it reflected the azure sky above it, yet still clear enough to see the rocks and the few fish swimming beneath the surface, I knew that, though not snowmelt, it might as well have been. Even as I got closer, the wind sailing over it felt slightly colder and I knew that I didn’t want to make myself suffer _that_ , but it was still enticing none the less.

It wasn’t a real lake, it had been made by damming a river. From it, a massive pipe had been laid to siphon off water, all smelted and cast from our own copper ore that we’d discovered years ago, before being reinforced in thick concrete and buried under rock, soil and stone. According to Al, we could take up to five times the water from here as went through our own streams. Given the height difference as well, we could generate one hundred times as much power as our first power station. We’d used about a tenth of that so far, but of course our town was always growing, and it needed its power. Unsurprisingly, Honey had overseen much of the work, including making gunpowder to blast through some really awkward chunks of rock.

.

_‘I know and can name all twenty-five core types of stitching…’_

.

‘ _Do you realise how pathetic that sounds? Just accept that your friends are doing cooler stuff than you!’_

.

_‘They’d be NAKED without ME!’_

.

_‘…OK self-confidence, you win with that one! Well done! [CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP]’_

.

_‘Thanks for the surrender nagging sense of lingering envy, now… let’s go by this pool and fish…’_

.

.

Setting up my rod, threading on some bait from my tackle-bag and casting off, I rested my head on the backpack and relaxed. My hindpaw on the rod, I let myself drift into some kind of half world dream state. Flicking ideas and fantasies passed through my mind, along with the whistling on the wind. I felt myself warm up as the sun moved through the sky, warming different parts of me as it past. There were errant twitches of my fur as something small and alive crawled up it, along with the odd tremble of my rod that brought me back to the world of the living.

Morning carried on ticking by.

.

Getting later,

.

And later,

.

And soon to be afternoon.

.

But then my nose caught a sniff in the wind, and I knew I wouldn’t be going to sleep just yet. Smiling as I knew that my carefully planning had all come together perfectly, I stayed silent and still, my ears pricking as I heard the sounds of crunching feet on the ground approach.

.

Closer…

.

Closer…

.

Quieter…

.

I let myself open the edge of my eye and give myself a close peak. I was right. She was trying to sneak up on my.

.

Down on all fours.

Each one taking its turn to slowly move forwards. Lifting up, flicking out in front and then slowly settling down on the soft grass. Gently falling until its pads touched the soft earth, ever careful to not make a sound.

.

I let her humour herself as she carried on approaching, hungry…

I could smell just how hungry she was.

How it was clawing at her insides.

The scent was overpowering.

Exciting…

Making me hungry too…

.

She was close now. Very, very close.

.

Silent.

.

I heard the twigs snap as she pounced and I turned, leaping up to catch her. Her eyes were wide and predatory, her face a vicious snarl ready for the kill, but I was waiting for her. She hit me hard, knocking me back as her scent became overpowering. My paws were fast too, racing up to her chest and slamming it back. She grabbed by shoulders, as I gripped her and she gripped me in return. We were locked together as I braced myself, trying to push forwards against the assaulting force by digging my foot claws into the soft earth.

Her momentum was too strong…

I felt my feet begin to buckle and my spine bend back, threatening to collapse. I wouldn’t allow that. I let one foot go loose while the second pushed hard in a new direction. I spun, gripping her hard, her clothes and skin in my paws as I twisted and we collapsed to the side. Me taking her with me.

.

We fell.

.

We hit the soft bed of grass and the springy ground and rolled, tearing up the mountain thyme and heather as we tumbled, sending their scents up into the air as if creating a great perfume.

.

My right paw out, I let it hit the ground hard and steady myself, so I was looking down at my Prey.

And she up at hers.

.

“Grrrr….!” I roared, my voice far more playful than furious as I bared my teeth and lazily batted a paw at Hester Vulpes, who lay beneath me, panting furiously in the aftermath of the thrill.

“GRRRR!” she roared back, louder but still mocking, her teeth bared.

I lowered myself down and gave her a soft kiss, and she raised up her head to do likewise.

“Enough of that, Killer. I was told you had some food?” she said, to which I smiled and shrugged.

“Oh, sure I do, but are you going to leave me alone while I get it?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a lady if I killed the Todd who feeds me, would I?”

I got up from her and made my way up to the bag, where some sandwiches were waiting. For me. For her.

I’d been friends with her since I met her.

We’d had our first kiss with each other, though we soon decided it wasn’t a real one.

Our first real one however, we had also shared...

And over the years, the cheeky little Vixen who I’d met had turned into the flirty Vixen who I’d grown to lust and love. 

Who haunted my dreams…

Whose scent and image drove me mad…

Who was always framed in my fantasies, making me madly excited and…

_SPLASH…._

My ears pricked at the sudden sound and turning around I only caught the briefest glimpse of the water hurled towards me before it hit.

Like a stone…

Like a cold stone that shivered me to the bone and pierced down to my fur. The shock startled me, making me scurry up the hill while yelping out, all while Hester just stood there, ankle deep in the water with dripping hands and a stupendous grin on her face as she laughed and laughed and laughed.

.

I couldn’t allow that.

.

I growled. For real this time, before my claws came out and I was down on all fours. Who cared if I messed up and went into the lake? My blood was hot. I needed cooling down.

My narrowing eyes met hers, we paused, and I charged.

Faster and faster and faster, blood pulsing through me as she realised her mistake, her eyes suddenly wide as she turned and fled, laughing as she did so.

“I’M GONNA GET YOU, HESS!” I screamed out, all while her foolish laughing carried on and on. She was out of the water now, though it still rippled from the splashes she had made while running through. She was on the land, getting faster and faster.

But I was faster still…

I came up to her, past her tail whose white tip was dripping wet with lake water.

Past her flowing lavender blouse, flickering in the wind.

I pounced, letting by back legs send me flying through the air, my hands out. I grabbed her paw, and pulled.

She leapt, and pulled back.

Once more I tumbled with her, hitting the ground and rolling. Our clothes and fur getting covered in the gorse and other undergrowth.

I growled.

She chuckled.

I raised my paw, claws out.

The blood drained from her face.

I attacked.

.

She screamed out.

.

I continued. Merciless.

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Her screams kept on roaring out as her eyes slammed shut, her wide-open muzzle more than making up for it.

.

I carried on. Any cries of mercy ignored. She deserved none.

.

She laughed. Softly at first as she tried to resist, but then harder and harder and harder as I carried on my attack. My other paw dived in, hitting the soft part of her side beneath her ribcage. My two paws united in their efforts. She kicked… She screamed… She almost cried….

.

I let off…

.

She was defeated.

Panting…

Weak…

“I deserved that…” she muttered, chuckling as she did so.

“Did you deserve that?” I asked out loud, pondering the question. “Yes, yes you did…”

“Mind cleaning me?” she asked, feigning her innocence as she stuck one of her fingers into her mouth, hooking her lip with her claw, and looked cutely up into the sky. It was an innocence which I knew she didn’t possess. Her jaws were now slightly apart, clawed paws now meekly holding themselves beneath it, all curled up, and her dark amber eyes now focussed squarely on mine. Her eyelids fluttered a few times.

_Sly Vixen…_

“Only,” I teased, taking the time to move my paw forward and walk the claws up her arm. “If you clean me too.” We both nodded, and we both leant in.

Our muzzle buried themselves in each other’s fur, our tongues were out and tasting it. Our teeth were out, preening and pulling it straight. I felt her massage me, lovingly, as she pulled my fur back into position and I did the same to her. I could taste her. I could smell her. I could hear and feel her purring deeply. It made me want to love her. Kiss her. Protect her. It made me feel loved and safe and secure… It made me excited… I dug in closer and closer, preening and licking the dirt and grime off her, cleaning her to a deserving state as she did likewise.

I moved forward, ready to rub myself on her, to claim her as mine, only she made the first move. Her teeth, which had been rubbing and scratching me as they did their work, bit me.

She bit me.

It was tender.

It was soft.

It spiked all my extremities up, winding me like a coiled spring.

.

I paused.

.

I got up front her and looked down.

“You know Hess, I was sort of planning of holding back if you wi…”

I was cut off as she went up and rubbed her check against my own. Making the first move again…

.

I looked down. I smiled. I laughed. She laughed back…

.

Our muzzles were buried in each other’s fur within a second, working more furiously that ever before over all parts of our faces. Our tongues out, their grating sound ringing out, while our teeth gently bit each other, softly nipping against the skin.

Her paws went forward, straight to my shirt…

It flew off and she was working at my chest, I could feel the soft wet lick of her tongue against my nipples, taking time and circling around the first. Teasing and pulling and rubbing and sucking. First one. Then a second. Then a third, and a fourth…

My head down, I rubbed my cheek against hers. Finally claiming her as my own. Finally rubbing my own scent against her as she had against me. Finally satisfied than even an almost nose-blind mammal wouldn’t dare think of her as available anymore. Satisfied, I readied my teeth and tongue went in to work on the back of her head. Working down, my tongue lapping out and preening as it went. Biting and licking, even as I approached her nape…

“BITE ME THERE!”

.

I paused, looking down at the sensitive flab of skin, thinking about my own.

I gulped, my mind cooling down as it came back to the real world.

“Hess,” I began to say, “I may not like you doin…”

“JUST BITE AND PULL NICK!” she screamed. Her growl, fierce, angry but full of passion tugged me.

I did as she asked. I went down and bit her nape deep with my fangs, anchoring them into the soft flesh. I pulled her up.

Her head stopped working on my chest while her arms, which had been working around near my tail, trying to unbutton my trousers, dropped down limp.

I paused, my ears straining till they heard her groans and whimpers…

Of pleasure… Of desire.

I pulled up, trembling as I took the weight of her torso in my jaws. She now purred… Louder and louder and louder.

My cramp in my muscles getting worse, I let go. She dropped, paws catching her as she fell. She shook her head and looked up at me, her eyes on fire and her teeth bared.

“I liked that,” she said softly, but with a deadly hint of malice or seduction or something else. “I was yours, Slick…”

“Want to make me yours?” I asked, still feeling a bit nervous about the whole idea as she nodded. I turned over, closed my eyes, and felt her take my nape.

I felt myself lose control.

My limbs went loose, still there but almost hanging. I tried to scream at them to move, to even twitch, but they refused. Whatever I tried to command my body to do, it refused. I was a ragdoll, at her mercy.

My eyes opened, fluttering half shut as I just made out her twitching ears as I was pulled up the mountain.

It was painful…

A good pain…

A great pain…

She was right, I was now all hers in every way shape and form. I was at her mercy. She was my master. She was in control. I didn’t want it any other way…

.

She let go…

.

I felt myself in charge of my shuddering, twitching limbs once more. My mouth too, my voice coming back. I was in control. Mastery of my own body came flooding back to me in an instant and I flipped over and I looked at her in the eye and our muzzles met. Cocking to each other’s side, we let our mouths envelope each other’s and lock together.

Teeth against teeth…

Tongue against tongue…

We began pulling… and sucking and exploring and licking. I felt her sharp points and warmth and moistness and the ridges on the top of her mouth. I could taste her, heck I could taste the food she’d eaten for breakfast! While I could detect the sweet tartness of berries and sickly honey in her, her warm tongue and the hot saliva of her mouth was like a flame in comparison. I could feel her tongue work its way through my mouth too, and in and around my teeth and on the top of my mouth or down my throat. I pulled back, a gap between us, though I pushed my tongue in further as she twitched and moved. We let go of each other, only to come back in again. I felt a cut, she cutting me. Sharp tooth against soft flesh. I tasted my blood. Hot blood. Tangy blood. Metal blood. Sweet blood.

We let go and looked at each other.

Panting, tongues out.

Our limbs twitching.

“First time?” I asked.

She nodded, and asked the same question back.

I nodded in return.

“Last time to back out Hess,” I warned, her final time, I…

She went forward, her mouth open and enveloping my own. Sharp teeth pricking it, sealing my whole snout shut. Like a muzzle.

 _‘OH,’_ I thought, purring in pleasure as I lowered myself down into submission. _‘I like a girl who’s in charge…’_

I nodded as she let go, my paws racing to make their way to her blouse. I tore it off her, as she went for my trousers. Then her skirt. Then our underwear.

Our blood was boiling.

Our parts wet and quivering.

Our legs and arms twitching and aching.

.

We paused. As if on the edge of a precipice. Together we nodded, it was time. Time to become one.

.

.

I lunged in. We grabbed each other, paw against paw. Claw against skin. Muzzle against muzzle and tongue against tongue and tooth against tooth.

Our tails wrapped as I moved about, embracing. Jiggling about, I let my part find hers and enter.

.

It was hot…

.

Pushing, pushing, pushing more and more as I slid in. Against her wetness. Against her warmth.

.

I groaned.

.

I groaned louder.

.

She screamed. Her loud cry of pain and pleasure roaring around the valley as its echoes joined it. I felt her quiver and shiver, as I jiggled about some more. Taking my muzzle off of hers, I let her groans cry out with each thrust.

“Yiiiiiii…….”

…

“YIIIIII….”

…

I grinned madly with delight, my ears pricking with each high pitch moan or cry. But I was jealous. I deserved that too… I NEEDED THAT….

.

I was so, so itchy… so, so itchy it was unbearable. Indescribably unbearable. Like a thousand mites biting and pricking on my most sensitive area. It calling out, begging and pleading and crying…

To be scratched.

To be touched.

To be bruised and bend and used and to swell and chafe and to release…

.

My limbs began their work, we became one. Pushing and pulling, madder and madder, our juices mixing for real this time.

I still wasn’t sure how to do this.

Nor was she.

She was careful, as was I.

Tenderly probing and probing, silent bar the loud cries of our groans.

I began the work proper, as I felt her warm blood on my flesh. I could smell it was blood, the sweetest blood, from here…

In and out… in and out… around and around as I felt myself swell. I felt her getting tighter and tighter around me. Caressing my most intimate part. Clamping like a vice. I wanted it tighter…

She moaned. Loudly. Then louder and louder and then louder again as the pleasure began stoking up hotter and hotter and hotter. It must have been unbearable… I grinned madly as her eyelids closed and her head fell back, her moans turning into high pitched cries that rang out.

“Yiiii…… YIIIIIIIIIII………YIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!” The last cry, shouted out as her entire body shuddered and quivered with pleasure, left its deafening peal ringing in my ears as I felt myself unload myself in her…

My arms and legs shot out, as did hers, kicking up the dirt behind us into thick clouds as we finally unwound. Panting…. Tired.

I felt myself slowly come out of her, but I was still hungry.

So was she. Looking into her eyes, it was obvious.

A playful grin across her face, showing out even as she shuddered with her deep, rapid pants, she turned around onto her fore and hind paws, gesturing to her nape as she did so.

“Go for it, Slick…” She muttered eagerly between breaths. “GO SAVAGE!”

I was too happy to not oblige.

Lunging forwards, I grabbed her shoulders tight, digging my claws in until I could hear her whimper… until I could feel her blood seeping up into the tips of my fingers…

My teeth grabbed her nape, biting down harder than I’d ever dared before….

Harder still.

I pulled back, as if tearing at her.

I heard her whimper as I felt her limbs give way, letting her collapse onto the trampled grass.

Like before, her cry was from pleasure.

I felt my member go crazy… so itchy… so so itchy.

I pushed in, harder and harder than I’d ever before… and out again.

In…

Out…

IN…

OUT…

Grabbing her tighter and tighter by the neck, listening to her whimper and plead…

Every thrust came with another “Yiiiifffff…” This time a soft, mewling call of pleasure as I worked harder and harder.

My grip on the outside didn’t let go as my grip on the inside got tighter and tighter, harder and harder and harder…

Oh God, I burned….

I burned so hard and…….

“YYYYIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF”

My jaws let go of her, crying out from the unbearable pleasure, the only thing taking me out of the trance being my ears pricking….

Catching her scream of pleasure too….

I collapsed onto her, locked in place, and began preening again. Softly biting here and there as my Vixen turned up, each movement gently tugging and relaying through our burning link, as her quivering eyes met mine.

She was panting…

Her tongue out, almost touching the ground.

I felt another soft groan of pleasure as I gave another small bit of seed to her, and her reaction back… almost a shiver, sent another wave of pleasure through me.

I felt faint…

So tired now… so…

“You don’t think you can quit after giving me THAT…”

I turn down back to face her, an evil grin on her muzzle as she raised up a paw to tickle under my chin.

I shrugged…

“Well I was sorta hopin…”

“Oh, come off it Slick!” she joked back, evidently recovering from what we’d just done. “Third times the charm right?”

 “If third times the charm…” I managed to say through my staggered, tired breaths… “Then WHAT was that…”

She shrugged. “The appetiser…”

“And the first time?”

“….”

I couldn’t help but laugh, I’d left her speechless while we were still knotted tight together.

She didn’t seem happy.

She scowled…

“Really Slick… This time, of all times, to be pedantic…”

“You know you love me…”

“Do I?” she asked, a crazy grin appearing on her muzzle before she turned down and pushed. Pushed hard. After a second of shock, I cried out in blissful agony as she prised her out of me…

The cold air making my tender manhood sting in pain…

I looked up at her…

She down at me, as she turned onto her back and waved.

I gulped.

Down on all fours, I advanced.

I felt the blood flow for one last time, and I entered her.

The first time had been scared, timid, exploratory. The second had been brutal, savage, primeval…

The third time…

The third time was soft and rolling and tender. Rocking and waving as we pushed and pulled, slipped and skidded, each sitting on the floor, our paws locked behind the others backs. Eyes that locked at one another’s when they got the chance, as our muzzles slowly rubbed against each other or our tongues playfully fussed one and another’s fur. Massaged and groaned. This time we didn’t cry and scream in divine pain…

This time we purred with the pleasure that came in gentle rolling waves.

Soft gentle ‘yiff’ calls echoed about, coming from both of us, as I looked deep into her eyes and kissed. As our insides locked once more, this time like warms paws grasping one another, and we hugged and rolled, the gentle rocking stirring the love inside of us. We kissed and licked and gently bit.

We stayed together…

We stayed enveloped with one another…

As lovers…

As mates…

Until finally my body saw fit to release her.

Pulling out, I collapsed on the ground and as she came over me, her nose over mine, before she spun and I saw her tail flash over me. Her legs were either side of my head. Her regions…

“Hess, that ain’t gonna work. I don’t know if you have any rabbit in you, but I’m totally out…”

She pulled back, before scowling.

I scowled back…

Then she brought out the puppy dog eyes…

“Nooo…” I muttered softly, “not those eyes…”

“Yes, those eyes,” was all she could say, a devious whisper, as she came in and kissed me gently on my nose.

“Can… Can I use my paw and be done…?”

“What about your tongue,” she asked playful twisting around so her tail was brushing over my nose… The scent… the scent from her velvet gland… Oh God…. OH GOD…..

“Sod it….” was all I could say, “four times max….”

I looked up to see her fist out. I gave her the reciprocal bump, before we moved back into position…

.

.

.

.

“I told you, that we’d both regret the sixth go….”

“AH shut up….” she called back weakly, before her paw gave a quick splash, flicking my face with the cold water.

The blissful, blissful cold water.

Cold water we’d been so far been kneeling in for the last half hour or so, dulling the screaming agony of our bruised and broken flesh as we recovered… recovered from… _That…._

I’d file it away as a dream or something, were it not for the evidence all around us.

And the memories… Those golden memories that were branded into my mind…

“I, I think it’s OK now,” she muttered as she lifted her tender form out of the lake, letting the water drip off her fur as she stumbled back to her clothes.

I just stood in the water.

Watching…

Waiting…

“Hess? Is it safe?” I called out.

“Yeh,” she tried to shout back, only for it come out as weak whimper. I turned back to my own predicament. Sure, the cold water had dulled almost all of the screaming pain down there (and under such a guise, along with the reassuring fact that this wasn’t drinking water, anything else that could further inflame it later had also been done) but once I was out I was out. Sure, my Vixen was safe, but she’d had a far higher tolerance (or appetite) than I had. Then again, she’d had eight to my six.

I looked down to my paw again and shoved it in the water, giving it a quick swill.

If it weren’t for the odd fact that I enjoyed the lingering taste, I’d been swilling out my mouth with the next uncontaminated water that I could find…

I gulped, time to do and dare…

I stood, letting the water fall off me as I tidied myself away. I paused, then wandered up to her. It was only when I approached her that I realised she was sleeping. Wrapped up tight in a bundle, like a swirling cinnamon bun. Only this one was crimson and cream and with a glorious mane of silver. Made of warm fur and flesh, that slowly rose and fell, that called to me.

I cuddled down next to her, wrapping myself in her so that _she_ was my basket. So that _she_ enveloped me. And I drifted off to sleep.

.

I was dark and dreamless, but just what I needed. For when I woke up, I was back in a dream that no mind could come up with.

My Vixen was awake, with me.

Alone…

Naked…

Together…

We spent the time tidying each other, preening gently this time with our tongues and teeth, only the occasional love bite coming through. However many fewer they were, their tenderness made up for it, the sharp pricks tart sweet.

The perfect desert.

I felt loved once again, though a different love than that which I knew before. An exciting love. A new Vixen to preen me and keep me tidy.

A Vixen to keep tidy myself.

I preened and licked and huffed as I made my way all over her body and she all over mind.

Through the bits that tickled.

Through the bits covered in grime and dust.

The bits still covered in water, or us, or each other…

Through our tails, as we worked out the knots in the fur.

Preening did feel good. Sooooo gooood. To be loved, and to feel a loved one’s body on yours, keeping you clean and healthy….

But by God, did preening someone else give it a run for its money.

Working away, feeling her fur with your tongue and tasting it… However tedious it may have seemed it lasted far too short a time.

And I’d do it all again and again, to keep my Vixen pretty…

“Slick…” I let my ears prick, catching her tired voice as she continued. “I know you’re loving that… I am too… But you do know that I have four other nipples that need doing?”

“I know,” I replied, through a face full of fur. I chuckled as I lifted up and moved down, gently licking around another of the small bumps buried deep in her coat, as she chuckled and hugged me tight…

We carried on, until the sun slowly began to sink back down, taking the day with it.

.

It was late afternoon by the time we managed to put our clothes on, making some semblance of an effort to make them look as presentable as we’d made each other. We made it up to the brim of the ridge, spotting our town below, before her legs buckled and I volunteered to carry her.

Another mistake…

Another mistake worthwhile.

I ached and huffed as I carried her down, feeling her body against my back. My tail wagging, it caught hers and they intertwined. While it had happened many times before, it had been involuntary.

Or forgotten against more pressing matters.

But here, it was a last bit of soft intimacy that kept us going...

I groaned and panted in the heat as I took her load, the odd bit petting she did on my head going a long way.

I remembered my bag, left at the top of the hill…

That could wait…

Maybe I could pay some kid to go up and bring it down?

I sighed…

I wanted to go home and cuddle with her. Sleep in my basket…

Did she know I slept in a basket…?

.

.

Would she care...?

.

She was asleep now… Maybe I could sneak her in, and she’d just have to accept it as part of the deal…

.

Maybe she’d like it?

.

I shook the thoughts from my head, though I did smile when I heard her snoring, as I carried on home…

Home…

If I tried that back in my old home, back in Zootopia, I’d be burnt to a crisp wouldn’t I?

Those most certainly were primitive, savage instincts, weren’t they?

I shook the bad thoughts of my old home from my mind but they came back. Truth be told, for better and for worse, there were many things we were missing here.

.

The hate.

.

The collars.

.

The TV.

.

The discrimination.

.

The nightlife and the excitement.

.

The collars again (because, let’s face it, it’s a really big point.)

.

The city sights and sounds.

.

Those speciesist mammals with their fox-away.

.

The lack of freedom.

.

All the different foods.

.

The lack of destiny.

.

The lack of hope.

.

All the different music, more made every day than you could ever listen to.

.

The abuse and name calling.

.

The thousands of prods and pokes, and the hoofs over wallets whenever you walked past.

.

The many, many prods and jabs…


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27:**

.

It seemed like things weren’t exactly going to plan.

That was the main thing that Nick had thought earlier in the morning as he took a gentle stroll to a local coffee shop that had taken his fancy. Dressed up to the nine’s, his suave mask was holding firm despite the ravenous beast growling inside of him, all too eager to rip into his upcoming breakfast. The place in question, and its serving of both a very, very strong and rich black coffee topped with a delicious vanilla-cream layer as well as a gigantic plate of scrambled, fried, poached and soft-boiled eggs along with omelette and French toast, was just in sight. While still around a corner, it was close enough for the faint escaping smells to send Nick’s nose haywire and his whole body into a salivating trance. Then a police car had pulled up beside him. In the time it took for two officers to get out, one of whom happened to be detective carrots herself, he barely had time to roll his eyes in weary frustration. Instead, he just stood rod still as they arrested him, doing his best to ignore the ignominy of having his arms bent behind his backs and roughly cuffed by the clumsy hooves of a sheep officer. While being read his Miranda rights, the Fox had chosen not to capitalise on his right to remain silent and had instead politely, and repeatedly, asked to know what he was being charged with.

.

Now, two hours later as he stood silently in a ZPD holding cell, Nick was still as clueless as he had been before.

Officially at least.

Deep down in his head he of course knew what this would be related to, having long ago accepted the fact that his escapades in the recent past may not be quite as undetectable as he always aimed for. In the grand wide world, whoever said that aiming low meant you never failed evidently didn’t know that it also led to failure and what that failure meant, so instead he’d aimed as high as possible.

On this occasion, it seemed like he’d missed slightly.

While some part of him naturally trembled with worry, Nick was able to keep his cool mask on without so much as a crack appearing on it. There were thankful signs helping this for sure, the fact that he was just picked up off of the street, clueless to his crime, was one. While it would be odd for someone to charge him with kidnapping orphans out loud, had they been certain of his guilt then surely at least some related line would come through. Added to all this was the inherent contradiction that he’d built up around himself. A Pred abducting Preds for a Pred hating terrorist group? The whole notion was so absurd that all reasonable people would dismiss it out and hand and assume the police force in question had been on some very bad nip.

Then again, this was Zootopia and he was a Red Fox (and one who was as Red as a ripe tomato).

Rapping his claws against the floor, twiddling his thumbs, Nick passed the time in the cold and damp room as he waited and waited. At first he was alone, bar the odd company of the occasional passing guard who gave him no mind. There was a janitor that passed him once as he went around sweeping the floor, by the looks of it an Alpaca on community service. Nick noticed that he was young, in his twenties with thick muscles and gelled wool. Evidently a jock who got into one too many fights, his bad attitude earning him this rather sullying experience. As he moved away with his brush, Nick sat alone in silence, not another soul passing bar a police horse in detective regalia.

He nodded to Nick.

Nick nodded back.

The detective carried on his way.  As the day progressed along, Nick closed his eyes and tried to settle off to sleep, only for the sound of some clattering down the hall make his eyes go open, wide with glee. More mammals were being brought in, and Nick would be able to practice his reading of others in gay abandon.

First in came a big burly horse, stumbling about with a reek of fermented apples that he could smell from a mile off. While his familiarity with the breeds and types of horses wasn’t all that good, Nick at least knew that he was a shire horse. Heavy built, with four white socks on each limb and feather like hairs that half covered his hooves. But looking closer, one could pick up other details as to how he came into this predicament. The dishevelled clothes pointed towards a life spent on, or at least around, the streets. While waving and blabbering about, the equine had revealed only one horseshoe on his feet, a very rusted on at that. The other hoof was badly cracked, evident that he’d been without any of the required protection for a very long time, the brittle keratin left to the mercy of the hard surfaces of the city streets. It was a good thing that he’d been brought in now, else he’d go lame. His hair, fur and mane were all tatty and dirty, showing that this was a homeless bum who was very drunk well before noon.

But was that all?

Peering closer, Nick could see white freeze-brand marks on his shoulder, the four Greek letters still very much clear. Alpha, Gamma, Nu and Epsilon, the proud symbol of a frat-house. Evidently this guy had gone to college, and had partook in the whole greek-life experience. A quick look up one of his nostrils and Nick could see a glint of light coming through his septum, meaning that at one point this guy had a nose ring (and a rather large one at that). While his mane was clear, a quick peak to the side allowed Nick to glance through some of the shorter arm fur, revealing the purples and greens and blues beneath, permanently inked in place. After that the short version of his history was obvious, with the final pieces put in place by the black eye, clearly showing that he’d got into a fight, and the scrappy bits of apple peel all around his mouth.

“So, been a rough few months’ chap?” Nick asked, leaning in politely. There was a pause as the horse turned to face him, before immediately racing forward to hurl up in the nearest toilet. Coughing and spluttering, he turned up to look at the Fox in question and sighed.

“Well you could… _Hic…_ say that…”

“Burn out of college?”

The horse’s mouth twitched in confusion as Nick just waited for a reply to confirm whether his theory was correct or not. The larger mammal shifted his eyes back down to the bowl and, much to the smaller ones well subdued glee, proved him right. “Uh… flunked out. No job, no money…”

“No family, or at least one you hate,” Nick suggested, remembering the evidence of a past punk rock look.

“Yeh…” he slurred, before turning back to the pan and gagging up again, letting a potent dribble of stomach juices escape, flowing through his front teeth before dribbling over his lips and then dripping off his chin.

“And let me guess, out on the streets. Hungry. Forgot the issues of a large animal with a long gut eating lots and lots of apple.”

“But I like apples….” He whined, before letting out a loud and (from his groan afterwards) evidently painful hiccup. “And they’re free…”

Nick just sighed and shook his head, before turning back to his bench. He thought for a few seconds, about what he should do. Help a mammal? Or not help a Prey? Looking back over and spotting the pathetic wreck of a creature in front of him, who hadn’t seemed to of done him any harm or hold any hatred, Nick made up his mind.

“Hey, mind giving me your parents number?”

“Why?”

“Prank call.”

“That’ll be a laugh.”

“Want any insults thrown in for good measure?”

“No,” the horse said, shrugging as he did so. “They don’t get me, doesn’t mean they’re geldings or anything. They just, they just don’t get me…” Turning back to the toilet, he slurred out a sequence of numbers before heaving up another pan-full of stomach juices. In that time, Nick had wandered over to one of the pay phones present and slotted in a coin. Dialling in the number, he waited for two rings until the other side was picked up, a tough sounding voice on the other side of the line.

“Hello, who is this?”

“Hello, my name’s Nick. I’m a councillor working down at the ZPD…”

“The ZPD!?”

“Yes. Anyway, we found your son the last night and…”

“My Son? Is he OK? He broke off contact but I didn’t think he’d… has he done anything wrong or…”

“Had one too many apples and came in a bit drunk,” Nick interrupted, taking over from the faltering voice on the other end of the line and smiling when he heard a small sigh of relief, the Stallion on the other side evidently happy that it wasn’t anything worse. As he listened, he couldn’t help but empathised with the drunk’s father, remembering a feeling just like that along with the heart-wrenching fear that came before. Though his memory smelled of acrid smoke and sharp ozone rather than fermented apples and stomach juices, it hammered home just how glad he now was for helping this guy out.

“Thanks, is he hurt? Does he need any help?”

“Nothing serious, right now he’s in a rough state and needs some help though. He seems very apologetic but also quite unstable. If you could come down here and take him home before he becomes sober, I’m sure you could put him back on the right track. Seems a nice chap, just requires some guidance.”

“I’ll be down there as soon as possible, it’s such a relief knowing that he’ll be OK. Thank you mister…”

“Just call me Nick,” he replied, before putting down the phone and wandering back to his bench, giving the horse a quick pat on his back as he went.

.

The next few visitors were a rather dull, obvious fair. First came in a marmot of all things, or more accurately a very battered and bruised member of the species. He has the odd chipped tooth in his mouth, and those remaining bore heavy nicotine stains. He wore a tough faux-leather jacket, all black and studded, and a spiked collar around his neck complete with stylised boxes with red lights surrounded by painted lightning bolts, something Nick judged as exceedingly bad taste. The black eye and multiple cuts all added to the image. His silent, stoic look showed that he knew what was going on, while the eyes burning with hate showed that he knew he was guilty. Just another thug the ZPD had removed off the city streets.

Visitor three’s arrival was announced by crying and begging, followed by the sharp sting of a collar going off, the sick buzz echoing around the hall. Nick winced at the sound and rubbed his own collar carefully, thanking himself once more that it was a secret dud. There was a click as a plexiglass door opened and a teenage jackal in a tattered denim jacket and dress was thrown in. She seemed to be in a hell of a state, tears flowing from her eyes, her fur standing on end and a whiff of smoke flowing off her neck. As the door slammed closed she turned to it and desperately pounded on it, begging her innocence with all her heart until several more guttural shocks silenced her.

“No rest for the wicked,” Nick muttered, as he walked over to the crumpled heap snivelling on the floor and helped her up, before guiding her over to the bench. Unlike the marmot’s eyes, these one betrayed fear, fear so strong that Nick could even smell it. He stood there with his arm around her shoulder, holding her tight through her shaking sobs until she eventually calmed down. Nick opened his mouth to speak, only for the knocking of a truncheon on the cell doors to distract him. The guard lazily opened it and called up the jackal, the growl in his words telling her not to dawdle. Standing up, she dutifully followed the officer on the way out of what was likely her first arrest. Nick couldn’t help but think over the whole scene bitterly. Another Pred, another profiling, another arrest happy cop who’d likely end up getting a look of disapproval here and there from the few other officers with standards if he was exceedingly unlucky. As for the girl? Shaken up, her whole day ruined, she’d gotten a taste of the full Zootopian Pred experience.

Coming in next was a rat, although he was being carted off to one of the rodent sized holding cells in his cage. Nick never got so much of a look at him, although he definitely smelt a whiff of nip.

There was a deer of some kind next, with a new year’s set of antlers growing in. They were just tiny velvet covered stumps at this stage, but already one had been badly damaged and was growing out at the wrong angle. The stink eye and bared teeth told Nick that this was your garden variety Pred hater who’d got a bit too physical, and who the ZPD couldn’t ignore any more. His gaze fixed on the cells sole Pred occupant and Nick felt a tinge of worry before the horse from earlier sat himself down next to him. Although still surly, he shook his head at the Pred hater in a defiant warning. The smaller mammal paused, before backing off. 

A few other mammals, all with their own stories, came in over the next hour or so but were mostly a disinteresting mix of Pred or Prey. Of course, things got interesting when a familiar goat came in, which certainly made Nick’s day.

“Fancy seeing you here!” the sarcastic Fox shot out, as the peddling goat scowled and turned away. Nick, however, wasn’t done yet. “Care to tell me what they finally got you in for? Anti-peanut allergy pills that happened to contain peanuts? Sugar pills that can magically regrow teeth…”

“Can you just shut up, Chomper!” the goat growled back, as he began butting the cell wall with his on good horn out of frustration.

“Chomper?” Nick quietly muttered. “I thought we were being civil in here?”

“Fat chance, you savage Pred,” the goat said, stamping his hoof on the concrete floor several times in frustration. Nick stood up, ready to further rib him on, only for a guard’s knock on the cell wall to distract his, and everyone else’s, attention.

“Mr Vulpes, can you come with me please?”

Nick stood straight, doffed his fedora at the other occupants of the cell, and walked out. His paws still uncuffed, he followed the guards down into the depths of the ZPD. Past other cells, doors, two concerned shire horses trotting the other way and then passed a series of locked rooms until he was finally placed in an interrogation room where Judy Hopps was waiting for him. Silently he was led in and allowed to sit down on a chair. As the guard left and the two mammals silently stared at each other, Nick spoke out ready to break the ice.

“I’m getting a strange feeling of Deja-vu. Aren’t you?”

Judy just shook her head, scowling as she silently warned him to stop playing around. He read her perfectly and knew what she was saying, it just so happened that he was going to ignore her.

“I’m getting a strange feeling of Deja-vu. Aren’t you?”

“Stop it…”

“I’m getting a strange feeling of…”

“Mr Vulpes,” Judy interrupted, taking the time to start her tape recorder and prep herself for the upcoming set of questions. “Can you…”

“Tell me why I’m here?” Nick suddenly butted in. “I’m here because you’re a bigoted little carrot farming bunny who decided that because A: bad things happen in Zootopia and B: I deliberately and consciously chose to do the evil thing and be born a pred, a Fox, a Red Fox with Red fur none the less… Anyway, in your mind these things are somehow linked. In short, you’re here because you have some kind of crime you need to charge someone for, and who better that your ‘natural enermy’. Am I correct?”

Judy just stood there, her nose twitching intently as she observed the Fox in front of her. The Fox who had just taken all her interview plans and blown them out of the window. She was about to try again, only for Nick to deny her the chance.

“The funny thing is you don’t learn do you,” he continued, a deviously smug grin growing across his face. “Didn’t you already take me in on a spurious charge? A charge which you had to let me go of? Thinking about it, you seemed to have even less evidence about what I’ve supposedly done now? Why don’t we make this simple. You say sorry, admit you’re a dumb bunny and…”

“I AM NOT A DUMB BUNNY!” Judy screamed back, the slur finally kicking her head into gear. “And I will not be stifled in my investigation by a sneaky, conniving…”

“Oh, very original, a sneaky and conniving Fox. Grade A for effort and originality carrots.” Nick replied, faking a yawn as he did so. This was easy.

“Your sneakiness and conniving-ness are plain to see,” Judy shot back. “As is your intolerable smugness, arrogance…”

“Charm?”

“Speciesist opinions…”

“Said the girl who called me sneaky and conniving…”

“You called me Carrots! And a dumb Bunny to…”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t pin me down?”

“You’ll be sorry when we’re done with you!”

“What, let me go with nothing so much as a rap on my wrist for the unforgivable crime of being blessed with the red fur?”

Judy paused, grabbing the glass of water normally reserved for those being interrogated and taking a deep, long swig. She looked at Nick, both of them silent, before speaking out. “Tell me, do you enjoy being this much of an ass?”

“How would I know, last time I looked I was a Fox.”

“Or what about your intolerable sarcasm, surely you’re going to admit that…”

“It’s a fabulous part of my personality? Why yes, yes, it is.”

“What is wrong with you? Are you compensating for…”

“I know you are.”

Judy paused there, double blinking for a second at the statement before shouting out. “WHAT!?”

“For your evidence,” Nick clarified, “not your… that wouldn’t really work, would it? Not unless you’re a Hyena.”

Judy just blinked few times, before scowling. She opened her mouth to speak, her right-hand index finger raised defiantly in the air, only to be cut off yet again.

“Just face it,” Nick said, shrugging as he did so. “You’re compensating to make up for the rather glaring fundamental truth of this situation.”

“What fundamental truth?”

“The fundamental truth that,” Nick began to say, before listing his reasons off his fingers. “One. You have some serious case you’re looking at which has turned up nothing but dead ends, so you simply strike out at the kind of mammal you can most easily imagine doing it. Two. Bar my species and your bias, you have no concrete evidence of my involvement. Three. You aimed to go on the offensive, shocking, in the literal sense, me into stumbling and admitting anything, and I mean absolutely anything, that might help you.”

Judy just looked back at him and smiled, her grin getting wider and wider. Her confidence didn’t wipe away Nick’s own one, but it certainly tempered it somewhat. “Do you want to know what you’re in for?”

“Entreat me,” Nick replied, waving his paw to invite Judy to speak.

“On the night of the sixth of April, four Predator Orphans were stolen away in the night by the knights of the muzzle hate organisation. You were spotted by a traffic cam, heading away from that site in the correct time frame. Now…”

“OK, can I stop you there,” Nick interrupted, rapping his claws on the table for a second or two before continuing. “Ignoring the obvious contradiction of a Pred working for the Knights, how can you even confirm that this Fox who just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time is me? Can I see the incriminating photo or what?”

Judy paused, before leaning forward to shuffle through a set of files she was keeping on her desk. As she filtered through, attempting to find the right picture, she began to tease the Fox again, desperate to eek out anything from him. “Of course, you knew what you were being charged with beforehand, the second we were arresting you in fact, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” Nick asked pausing to think. His elbows on the table, he held his index fingers up against each other and shook them from side to side while twisting his mouth about, articulate his thought process to his companion. “Did I… did I… Did I not? I think I did not! I did not! Did not! Not! Not! Not!”

“You like to say not a lot,” Judy replied nonchalantly, only for Nick to interrupt her.

“I like to say what a lot?” he asked, as small but devious grin on his muzzle.

“I said you like to say not a lot.”

“Pardon?” he asked again, eliciting a groan from the Bunny.

“I said, You… Like… To… Say… Not… a… lot…” she replied, taking the time to slowly spell out each word.

“I got, ‘said, you, to and say…’”

“If you don’t get this then tough,” Judy grovelled out, “but I’ll fill you in and then we’re moving on regardless of whether you got it or not! For the final time, I… Like… Not… A… Lot…”

“Glad to hear it,” Nick said, snickering slightly as Judy reached over to retrieved the photo, only to pause and groan as her ears latched on to the now giggling Fox in front of her. Rewinding and repeating what she’d just said in her mind, she threw the photo onto the table hard and facepalmed, moaning at the terrible innuendo she’d just spoken. Nick, however, was having a whale of a time.

“So, you like knot a lot?” he asked, projecting his voice out into the room. “Maybe that’s why you dragged me back here, want some Foxy action. I’m afraid to inform you though fluff, that us Foxes do…”

“LISTEN, SLICK NICK!” Judy suddenly shouted, leaping up onto the table as she did so. Her patience wearing thin, she was fed up of being run around by this Fox and was determined to prise, prick and pull as many answers from him as she could. “Let’s face it! You’re trying to hide something! That’s why you’re being so abrasive! So, aggressive! Going on the offensive! If you had nothing to hide, you’d be defending yourself instead of attacking me! You want to throw me off my game, don’t you? Because you’re scared of my game, admit it!”

Nick stood there, blinking a few times, before he reached for the glass. Raising it up so the water was just below his muzzle, he raised an eyebrow before playfully lapping at the water, flicking his tongue lazily in and out every second or so, propelling a small trickle up to his mouth. The infuriatingly loud splashing sound echoed around the room along with Judy’s umpteenth groan of the day. Biding his time, he put the glass down and just sat there.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Checking his watch.

His eyes flicked and scanned Judy and, when he noticed her breath sharply in, ready to speak, he pounced.

“You know the great military strategist Shih-Tzu stated that offense is the best defence?”

The rabbit paused, before launching her counterattack. “So, you admit you have something to defend, huh?”

“Well of course,” Nick replied, shrugging. “My status as a free mammal, or at least as free as I can be in a city where ninety percent of the population are raised to despise me and try to put me away in jail…”

“What!?” Judy spurted out, before composing herself. “Let’s stop with this hyperbole, please. Can you…”

“Maybe show me the evidence you justified to bring me in here? Or are you desperately trying to justify my continued incarceration. In your mind it’s justified isn’t it. Just one less inherently evil Fox on the streets.”

“HOW DARE YOU!” Judy shouted out, before pointing her finger dead at the picture in question. “That is you! That is you going to wherever you’re going after abducting those orphans. That’s…”

“One really terrible bit of evidence, Fluff,” Nick once more interrupted, before leaning forward, reviewing the photo. “I mean, this is a Fox in a car in Tundratown. Can’t see any Orphans there. You can’t prove that this has anything to do with the abduction and, even if it does, that could be any Fox. How many Foxes do you think are in this city with a brown tipped tail and green eyes?”

“Or maybe…” Judy began again, only to feel a warm paw-pad being pressed against her mouth, silencing her.

“Or maybe, the only evidence you need is that it’s a Fox in the rough vicinity of a crime,” Nick said accusingly, before pulling his arms back and crossing them in front of him. “I mean, what the hell kind of motive would I have for doing this? For supporting the most notorious anti-Pred hate group in a city that already does enough to hate me? Tell me!”

Judy paused, lost for words, as Nick leant in and began giving her the same order again and again and again. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!” His voice got louder and more aggressive, a growl developing in the pit of his throat as he, and his overwhelming presence got closer and closer to the Bunny. Judy’s nose was twitching, faster and faster, as she saw the moving jaws and teeth approach her, always barking out the same thing. “Tell Me! Tell Me!! TELL ME!!!”

“FOX STUFF!” she blurted out, silencing the room. Her paw covering her mouth, she watched as Nick’s head practically tilted ninety degrees to the side, one eye directly above the other. He blinked several times as the Bunny, realising what she’d just said, began desperately blabbering.

“I… I… I didn’t, I didn’t mean any offence… and… uh…”

“Let me stop you right there!” Nick calmly ordered, his paw held out and up, silencing her. “I know a fair bit about police interview tactics...”

“Of course you do,” Judy muttered, her head collapsing into her palms as her ears went as droopy as can be.

“And the classic thing to do if you are desperate for info is to pull in a Pred who may or may not have a marginal link to a case. You scare him. Make him worried. He knows how he can be seen as guilty before innocent by many juries. He’s heard the many stories from his or her peers about how they were profiled or wrongly convicted. You put on the pressure, pulling in a few rewards from your legalised electric torture, and bish bash bosh you might get you blubbering victim to mutter something, anything to help you. Am I correct ,Miss Hopps? And if I am, can I get on with my day?”

Judy just looked up and slowly nodded her head, scowling slightly as she saw Nick’s face widen into an infuriatingly smug victory grin.

.

.

.

“You know I still resent being profiled?”

“Oh, do shut up!” Judy groaned as she led Nick out through the entrance atrium of the ZPD. It was late morning by now, a good chunk of the Foxes day wasted and breakfast service at the Café long since closed. Irritated at his pointless incarceration, Nick planned to recover that day by rubbing in Judy’s failings as mercilessly as he could and for as long as he could.

“You know, I still resent being profiled,” he said again. And again…

And again…

And again…

And again…

“OH, DO SHUT UP! IT WASN’T POINTLESS!” Judy finally screamed, having reached MNTR (maximum nose twitch rate) just seconds before. Nick turned to rebut her, only for her to beat him too it for once.

“Ronny and Remmy Packson!”

“…” Nick just stood there, his mouth hovering open but left speechless. His ears flicked about as the two names echoed around the great hall, while his head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Vasil Snowpaw!” Judy said, this time getting a response.

“Pardon?”

“Anita Fox!”

“Anita Fox?”

“YES!” Judy growled, before shaking her arms about as she vented. “A poor little Vixen who was just seven years old, who loved playing in the snow and who had friends and who was abducted and is almost certain to be never seen again! Thousands upon thousands of Preds… Your people! They’ve suffered the same fate. And I’m frustrated. Frustrated and frustrated and frustrated about never, ever making any leads! And the fact that you Preds seem to be more silent and secretive about this than anyone else! Seriously, what gives!”

“… Fox, as a last name…” Nick just muttered, his voice tinging with contempt before he turned and began pacing off. Judy, witnessing it, shook her head and chased after him.

“She was abandoned with only her first, she was given the last name by the orphanage.”

“A Vixen’s last name,” Nick repeated, his voice laced with disgust. “And they called her ‘Fox?’”

“Yes,” Judy replied, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Is there any problem?”

“Fox surnames are matrilineal…” Nick growled as he turned to face her, “And they gave no thought… No consideration to the name that she would share with her husband… Or her children… Do you know how much of an insult that is?”

Judy paused, lost for words as she stared up at the Fox in question. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. Fortunately, however, an excuse came through the doors at that very moment as two officers barged in, carrying the limp body of an Ocelot between them.

“We’ve got a Savage Pred, boys!” One of the officers, a large Rhino, screamed. He let go of his charges cuffed paws with one arm to wave over some support, leaving him unable to restrain the comatose feline as he woke again.

His eyes opened…

Angry, slitted eyes that darted around and focusses on anything and everything. They betrayed no intelligence or emotion…

Bar hate…

“HE’S AWAKE” Judy screamed as the whole world seemed to slow down. She charged forward just as the savage tore its legs loose from the second officer’s grasp and began screaming on the floor. Roaring, growling, thrashing about as it snarled and shook, fighting a battle to the death against its restraints and the arms of fellow officers, who were rushing back to try and pin it down.

Its collar went up to orange.

Its collar went up to red.

A shock rang out, the fierce crackling roaring through the ZPD, overpowering the screams of police mammals and civilians as they ran to it or fled. The Ocelot shuddered under the tortured and screamed, its rage only getting madder from the torture.

And madder.

And madder.

The entire attendance of officers in attendance were charging into position, yelling, screaming and reaching for noose poles or truncheons or tranquilisers as the best continued its descent into pain.

Nick was only able to watch.

Watch as an intelligent mammal like him went feral on the floor.

Fighting through lash after lash of his collar, the neon blue arcs lighting up the room.

Watch as Judy called out to fellow officers, directing those behind the savage to provoke it. Angered further, it turned around to face them, before Judy pulled out her dart gun and fired into its exposed back.

Nick’s eyes were wide open and ears erect in fear, taking in every sight and sound as the crazed mammal was finally subdued, tranquiliser darts in its fur and a muzzle clamped tight over its mouth, before it was carried away.

He was left panting. Confused. In shock at this phenomenon. This thing he and everyone he knew had written off as a myth, yet here is was being played out in front of him. Something had changed.

He needed answers urgently, and as the cries and shouts of scared and relieved mammals who only now were coming out from behind their cover roared through the ZPD louder than any feral growl, he knew that he would find none here.

Turning his heel, Nick raced out of the door. Not noticing the suspicious Bunny glance his way one last time.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28:**

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_Judy’s Diary. 11.04.16._

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OK, yesterday was a pain.

A real, real pain…

First off, the entire precinct was thrown off by an encounter with a savage ocelot. He was being taken in, early in the morning, and his tranquiliser just happened to wear off as he was being brought into the foyer. Why was he being taken into the Foyer? Well, apparently one of the squad cars broke down on the access ramp to the drop-off point and that meant the front entrance was the best route in. So at least it seems that my fellow officers aren’t as stupid/ unprofessional as a random onlooker might think. Anyway, he snarled, he bit and he fought. He fought so hard against his collar that its shocks just bounced off until he was finally, finally brought under control by a second round of tranq’s delivered by yours truly. I can still imagine the smell of burning fur, still lingering in my nostrils.

I’d forgotten what it was like to encounter… one of those.

To see them, with their non-mammalian eyes and their mad, mad thoughts. What could have possessed him, or any other Pred for that matter, to full on de-evolve?

What’s even scarier is that, according to the officers who took him in, he was completely NOT the kind of Pred you’d expect to go savage. Wasn’t a punk, or a black clad anarchist. Heck, he was one of the few sensible Preds I’ve spotted that _didn’t_ have a collardarity party card in his wallet (though that’s no guarantee that he didn’t supported them and their flights of beautiful albeit completely unrealistic fancy).

Anyway, back on topic, they even showed me his driving licence which was recovered from said wallet. This was a guy who wore paisley shirts and thick rimmed glasses! And TWEED!

TWEED!

(Note, this may read like he’s an uber hipster, but dear god he wasn’t. Words cannot describe how dorky he looked.)

Behind his licence was a card for the temperance society! He worked in the city hall records department, apparently having just been transferred to the position of their chief liaison with the assistant mayor! (side note: imagine if he went savage when dropping off some records on Mr Woolly’s desk. That paper-eating two standard deviations below the norm moron wouldn’t stand a chance.) And yet, something turned him crazy and we had to come in and haul him off.

It’s funny though, it was an encounter just like this that set this whole diary thing off. Me getting spooked, scared, etc.

And after that verbal knockdown by Mr Vulpes, it makes one think…

Could the Preds really be de-evolving? I know that they can easily lose control of their temper and let their instincts take over, hence why we need the collars, but this savage thing is a whole league above. No mammal left, just the animal.

I talked to one of the officers in the division looking after the savage cases, and to be fair they at least seem to have some leads going on thanks to the reports they gathered from the savages once they ‘re-evolved’. I mean, there’s the prick report for a start, which I think I talked about earlier. Apparently, they looked into it and in some cases did find evidence of small, localised, high-speed trauma (some kind of dissolving dart, or pellet of some kind). A few others apparently reported seeing a Wolf before they… went. That last bit confused the investigators to no end. In hindsight, I could share my stories about Mr Vulpes with them. Imagine that, a Fox behind the Knights of the muzzle and a Wolf behind the Savage outbreak. We certainly live in strange times, don’t we?

Talking further with him about the history of this department, it seemed like (with the occasional exception of the two Pred consultants from the University) the culture in that investigative unit used to be even worse than the one for the knights of the muzzle cases. At least we tried. From what I gather their unit was set up by the mayor in order to ‘pacify the preds’ and ‘give the majority some hope that we can actually do something to fix this random act of nature’ without the least bit of urgency to actually do anything innovative. Instead they just sat back and quarantined the victims, ran a few blood tests before dusting their hands and calling it job done. Treating it as if it were a natural phenomenon that was a fact of life and required management.

I suppose I’m guilty of thinking in the same way when the first case hit. The first one in recorded history. I suppose, I guess, that having been told that Preds were violent and aggressive I treated it without the surprise it needed. Damn, I was a real… small minded mammal back then. Good thing I’ve learned from experience and removed all that bias from within me.

Yay! Self-improvement FTW!

Anyway, back to topic. The savage unit was recently (as in the last two months) really driven into action by the political pressure caused by the Knights of the muzzle. The Mayor, again wanting to not alienate the Pred vote ordered that they look into it given that, in her words, ‘one might think that a rather prominent anti-Pred hate group is behind this all.’ I remember her big speech and everything. In any case, that push made them at least give the idea that these savage cases are not natural some credence and, apparently, some (properly analysed and cross-compared) blood test have made them seriously consider the effects of bad drugs being in play.

From what I was told, they don’t have enough evidence to confirm anything yet, but it is a lead. A lead that could cause those Preds who are currently being interred to finally regain their freedom, now that we know they’re safe for re-release.

At least they’re going through their mega-case better than me with mine.

.

Back to that, and my latest failure…

I knew that bringing in Mr Vulpes was a long shot. A really long shot.

It still meant that, when he turned the standard interrogation procedure on its head and left me humiliated, I was a bit gutted. He seems to have limitless confidence and a supermammalian way with words. I don’t deny that I had bugger all ammunition, but he made it seem like I had negative ammunition.

Negamunition…

Negatition?

But anyway, he seems well read too. He was able to spot our cracking tactic right away and bat it off immediately, as if he were briefed on it by some higher up.

The cracking tactic is usually used on both Pred and Prey, often those who are considered to be low-medium level mooks in a criminal operation. The essential plan of it is shock and awe/ blitzkrieg. Take a mammal with some connection off the street, making sure he doesn’t know what he’s in for. He’ll be nervous, sweating about in a holding cell for a few hours and letting terrible thoughts about what might happen flood through his mind. Next, we’ll take him into the cell and go on the offensive.

Attack.

Attack.

Attack.

Make sure that he’s lost for words, blabbering, desperate to keep on speaking and not run out of things to say. Most of the time (given that fear leads to anger), they’ll get angry, lash out and potentially (if they’re Pred) get shocked. All of this makes it more likely that they reveal something that they shouldn’t. While I hate to agree with Mr Vulpes, getting them angry enough to set off a collar is a really good way to help throw him or her off. Although I resent the implication that it’s ‘legalised electrotorture’. I’m not forcing Preds into a high stress environment…

Well, technically I am…

But it’s not like I’m setting his collar off with a remote or anything! All this stuff is completely moral and above the board. When you look into it, there’s no real difference between ‘cracking’ a Pred or a  Prey mammal. In both cases it makes a mammal angry and said mammal is more likely to blab! It just so happens we need some protection when Preds get angry…

 Besides, it uncovers bad guys and has saved lives in the past! Those four orphan kids? Yeh, it could help them. It’s broken-up mammal trafficking rings in the past, and stopped burglaries. By tackling low to medium level Pred and Prey members of certain crime syndicates, we’ve taken them down and made Zootopia a vastly safer place for both Pred and Prey. It’s messy, it’s nasty, it doesn’t feel good or nice but it gets things done, and I still can’t see why the Preds are on board with something that ultimately benefits them.

Anyway, if that doesn’t work then at the end of it all you get a scared, disorientated mammal who just wants to go home. Have someone come in and play the good cop routine and he’ll either fess up to what he knows, potentially with the help of a plea bargain, or he’ll inadvertently let slip some info that we can work on.

Mr Vulpes however, was able to spot this. Literally saying it to my face! As if to add insult to injury, I’m pretty sure he ended up interviewing me! He went on attack after attack and made me stumble about, trying to answer him. My counter attacks were turned around and I ended up lost for words. It’s a shame, were he a prey mammal he could likely make an excellent cop for his interrogation skills alone.

But….

.

But…

.

At the same time, Mr Vulpes’ victory was his own defeat. It only came up to me much later when I was thinking about the savage cat. He seemed absolutely shaken by it, something I could understand, but at the same something was wrong.

It hit me just now. His collar.

Not one orange light. Not one! All through the interrogation (and the encounter with the savage) it was if his collar wasn’t working. But of course, I’d already checked it…

So, he’s got a mask up, and he is hiding something. Of that I’m certain.

Why else would he go on such a calculated offensive when most preds would either be scared stiff, lashing out and zapping themselves silly or shutting their mouths tight and begging for a lawyer! Why else would he be so aggressive, but at the same time calm underneath, when he likely knew that we had absolutely nothing on him, thus employing this tactic! (Which, we must remember, he was able to spot and explain as if he’d read a book on it). Mr Vulpes IS hiding something, which is why I was able to snag a fur sample when he wasn’t looking. I’m waiting for the reply from the lab right now…

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ADDENDUM:

I’ve just got the results back, let’s go nosey…

.

.

I don’t believe it…

We have no records.

No match.

Nothing.

No evidence of who he is, or who his parents are or…

It’s as if he appeared out of thin air! Popped into existence and began walking around, trying to get on my goat! (no offence to certain ungulates, maybe bar one, meant.)

For all intense and purposes, Nicholas Vulpes shouldn’t exist, but he does.

I’ve gone to Bogo with this, and hope to get permission to follow him around. Track him. He must be up to something now! Maybe he’s a secret agent from a foreign country or something? He certainly looks and acts the part…

In any case…

I’ve got to actually know where he is to be able to track him in the first place, don’t I?

Ain’t no rest for the wicked…

.

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DOUBLE ADDENDUM:

.

Bogo said no…

.

I don’t believe it but old Buffalo Butt refused!

.

He said that I was obsessed with this Fox, having previously brought him in twice on spurious evidence and followed him once before, and that…

And that he’s considering reassigning me if I put but one more toe out of line.

.

You know what? I bet he’s a speciesist, Pred hating, Knights sympathising jerk just like the rest of them! Just like Oates, who seems to act like the Preds are all going willingly!

Talking about him, he’s no help at all. He just shooed me away as he tried to talk to someone on the phone, calming them down and saying things like ‘How would I know that you thought it didn’t exist’ or ‘have you ever heard of Bellwetherfield?’

I’m too mad to get involved with whatever that’s about.

Am I the only one with any drive to solve this thing? Am I the only one that believes the ZPD should serve and protect all mammals, including Preds? Am I the only one who’s ever brought new ideas to the table.

And they’re tethering me back. Neutering me. Sometimes, I think I’m the only good guy/girl in the whole wide world.

I’ve got nothing left to add.

.

Judy Hopps,

Signing out.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29:**

**.**

**June 2002.**

.

It just so happened that today should have been lovely.

.

It was early summer, when every tree was filled with green leaves and the blossoms of spring had given way to the endless supply of sweet fruits that followed. The sun was high in the sky, almost reaching its zenith for the entire year. Warm, yellow, its light and heat touched almost everywhere in the town. It shone down bright from the picture postcard blue sky, which was clear as a blank canvas, bar the odd fluffy little cloud floating about here and there.

All perfect.

All white.

Almost like flying tufts of sheep wool.

It was like one of the drawings I used to do when I was still a child, back in Zootopia over ten years ago. Back when life was a slow boring struggle that could only be escaped by diving into these fantasies, scribbling them out on scraps of paper up in my old room of the tailor shop while I made up stories in my head of what our new life would be like. A life where everyone had mores hours to play than there were in a day. Where crying was banned and there was more food than you could ever imagine. Where everyone was your friend and you friends with everyone. Where no one got old, or ill, or sad or sick…

I suppose we were lucky, being so successful and not having a tragedy until now. Sure, some of the older Preds had died. Some too young, of illnesses that we might have been able to cure back in Zootopia. But that was all part of the cost we paid to be here and besides, the hate and the collars may well have tripped their hearts up much earlier in their lives compared to when they stopped beating here. It was all part of the cost we'd agreed to. The cost we gladly paid to be free…

But this though…

This was never supposed to be part of the price.

The tragedy was never supposed to be _this_ …

.

Dressed simply, I walked by myself along the shopping arcade, shrugging off the looks of sympathy coming from the few mammals that passed me by. Barely a week had passed since it started, the first hurried words of warning called out as May turned to June, barely a day since I'd come down from the mountain with my mate on my back.

It was four days ago, that it turned from a fear to a dread, striking home as it sought out someone so very, very close to my heart.

It was three since I found myself fed up with the way that other mammals now treated me. I didn't want their sympathy. I didn't want them to feel sorry for me. I wasn't the one who needed their care and attention!

I dared to glance up…

I regretted it.

Another look of sympathy. Another look of sadness from a bear of all things, a mammal that had no idea of what I… no, what _she_ was being put through.

For a second I wanted to punch him. To scream and shout. To make him understand that I wasn't some useless, helpless Fox who was powerless.

Who needed his sympathy and attention.

Instead I gave him a quick wave of thanks and carried on by myself. Mock politeness for the mock politeness he'd given me. If I had to hazard a guess on why I didn't lash out, I'd suppose it was due to the fact that he was right.

Or at least part right.

I was a helpless Fox, who was currently powerless and at the mercy of others. For the first time since leaving Zootopia, I was feeling like the world was against me. Only this time, it wasn't the faceless hordes of Prey mammals with their hate and prejudice and ignorance. It was something far older…

Far more powerful.

But still something with no face, bar those of its victims.

Something which, in our hubris, we'd all forgotten about. Which we didn't even think of or consider or pay any attention to. It was like an ancient deity that used to cull through the men and women of the earth in ancient times until it had been banished away and forgotten. It didn't care that we couldn't 'worship it' in the same way that others had in the past to banish it, and unleashed it had returned, not caring who it struck down as it came back, simply attacking those who were vulnerable to it without mercy.

No one had ever paid it so much as an ounce of attention.

And dear god, were we paying the price for it now.

Dear god were we sorry.

I walked into one of the café's, my ears flicking somewhat as the usual hubbub of talk failed to materialise. Instead it was a soft, quiet murmur that only got more-so as they saw just who had entered. It was too much… far too much.

"Just get on with your day," I muttered spitefully as I shuffled towards the counter at the end, not wishing to be the buzzkill that I evidently was. Instead of asking for my order, one of the giant otters behind the desk simply nodded and silently went about getting it as impersonally as possible. I'd been coming here three days now. Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner, and each time I collected the money in my paws, ready to slam it down on her counter before she could dare tell me that it was on the house.

I didn't need any sympathy.

I didn't want any sympathy.

And what did they know! Huh!? All these mammals just judging and judging and judging and _lying_ … Unless they were suffering the same tragedy, how could they possible empathise? The bitterness kept on swimming through my mind as I threw down the coins and picked up the bowl of fish broth, its fragrant steam filling up the air as I turned to leave. I only paused to give the otter a quick thank you, mock politeness, and then I was off.

Out, out from the small front room full of mammals whose enjoyment of their day was obviously disturbed by me.

Out, away from those all those judging me or talking about me when my back was turned, all with those damned mocking looks of sympathy in their eyes.

I didn't want them…

I didn't need them…

They still kept coming, even though I could do nothing with them and had no way of giving them all to the one person in the whole world who needed it…

.

.

It was if the whole town had been poisoned by this, rather than just a small portion. You used to have children out in the open, running and jumping and screaming and playing out on the grassy field. With sticks in their paws they acted out crazy fantasies, became heroes or villains and then switching sides faster than a coin could be tossed. You could just sit back and listen to them, shouting out made up stories that contained no sense or reason or drama at all, but kept them as entertained as could be none the less.

Now, at most, they just walked past with their heads hung low. Their voices quiet. Either silent or worried. Some Bears and some Felines hung about on a climbing frame while a racoon slowly swung on a swing. Some stouts, a ferret and a weasel were playing hopscotch and here or there, another child turned up to join in with something while another one left. And in all the crowd, just like it had been back at the cafe earlier, not a single canine was among them.

The change in mood hung over the town like a mist, seeping into everything and everywhere, but it was better this way. Better that their joy wasn't filtering through to me, or that they were coming up to me to ask me to join in. I just wanted to be alone to think about everything in my own time, at my own pace, without any other mammals trying to get in. Because, even though I tried to never let them see it, they did get to me… Just in the complete opposite way of what they, in their blind childish optimism, expected.

Looking either way, I skulked into Honey's house, weaving through the racks and shelves of produce that filled the front room. Unlike the hot, salty smell of fish from the previous cafe, this shop was filled with hundreds of smaller, finer scents.

Herbs…

Medicines…

In some cases, both.

Being as careful as we were, we'd stocked up on huge numbers of drugs and pills when we'd left Zootopia, and each new arrival would bring in more. Of course, they were almost always off the shelf, so it was all basic at best. Even so, it was the best we had to offer, and the best would have to do.

Madge was there, Honey's older sister, who'd taught herself first aid and had even done basic surgery, meaning that she was one of the closest things we had to a doctor. Knowing her personally, and knowing that she was helping, I smiled for real this time, though nothing much more. The Honey Badger just smiled in return, knowing not to speak, and passed forward the dust she'd prepared. Our most powerful painkillers, sleeping medicine, decongestants and a mix of herbs that was supposedly used in ancient times. I give her my coin and poured it into the soup, letting it dissolve up into nothing. I turned to go, only for my ears to prick at a very unwelcome sound. A voice…

"It's going to be OK, Nick."

I couldn't help but bare my teeth at that statement. How… HOW! How could she be so sure of that! I didn't know if I growled or not, but I marched out of the little pharmacy and practically bolted back towards my own house.

Paw in front of paw. Step by step. Head down, ears shut, eyes just following the slabs of the road till I reached my house.

Through the front door.

Through the empty shop, the splendid bolts of fabric on all sides getting covered in accumulating cobwebs and dust. We had the time to clean it, but no one had the heart.

Through the abandoned lounge, silent as it had been for days, and then up the stairs. My ears were already pricking at the pitiful sounds.

Through the kitchen, down the corridor, second on the right…

Into my sister's room, where I joined the four mammals already there. I slipped past them, putting the food down onto the bedside table and kneeling down to look at her. My sister… My poor, poor Lynn.

.

She looked so weak…

So very, very weak…

If I didn't remember her so strongly, I wouldn't have recognised her as the chirpy, bouncy little Vixen who'd giggled about and played with her friends just a week ago. Who stropped and was fussy and wouldn't touch the food that she couldn't get enough of the year before. Who, aged eight, had already got a mortal enemy and a long past of war and fighting, and had showed me all the scribble like drawings of the crazy traps she was going to use to prank her. Who had boundless energy, until the moment she got in from playing out with her friends at which point she'd collapse onto the lounge floor and curl up into a ball in her sleep. Who was curious about everything and then didn't want to learn about anything and was then looking about again as if everything was the most interesting thing in the world.

But instead of her wide eyes that had looked out with a sparkle in them, the amber irises that I occasionally caught a glimpse of were dull and tired. The edges were gummed up with sick, putrid off-white mucus that caught on all the fur it touched, gluing it all together where it helped to make her occasional eyelid movements so painfully slow. But it was her nose that was bearing the most of it. The snot was brown there, clogging her up so much that each breath sounded like a pained whine. Producing the vile substance must have been the one thing she was good at the moment, as with each breath and each minute more of it oozed out from her. Even now I watched it as it slowly made its way out of her nostrils before dribbling through the fur above her lip, fusing it together into a gross matt of filth that stank of sickness and decay. At first, we'd tried wiping it off. Then cutting it off. In the end, we'd just given up.

Mum and Dad were just looking on, practically reduced to shadows which hung faintly and silently by the wall. They clung to Mrs Badger as if for dear life, though she too seemed to be as still as a statue.

There was a whine.

A soft whine.

A pained whine.

A whine so faint that I nearly missed it.

I did catch it though, and as my ears swivelled forward I looked down at Lynn, tears slowly seeping from her eyes as she tried to move. One of her paws was out, trying to grab one of her stuffed toys and bring it in tight. Just barely, she managed to catch it with one of her claws and pull it in. As she hung on to it for comfort, slowly fussing through the orange felt with her paws and muzzle, I leant in to comfort her too.

"Don't worry Sis," I whispered, "Nicky's here with lunch and some things to make you better."

She didn't respond, staying silent as I came in close to hug her, my cheek fur rubbing against her blankets as I move in to cup her little head under my chin. I brought my arms in from the side, one curling around her back to protect her while the other went to her face, to stroke and pet. As my paw pads touched her cheek, I couldn't help but feel how hot she was. Even through all her fur, I could still tell that she was burning up.

"N…."

"Yes Lynn," I whispered again, smiling as she tried to speak. I lifted my head up and turned to face her, looking her in the one eye that was facing up, despite it being closed, and smiled as best as I could.

"Nick…" she managed to whisper out, her voice hoarse, weak and almost inaudible, the one syllable of my name a pained and tiring struggle to get out. As she said it, she lifted her head up so her stubby little muzzle was pointing towards me, her eyelids fluttering as she opened them so that she could look me in my eyes. I looked straight back into her eyes in return, her terrified, terrified eyes, never wanting to break contact.

"Don't worry, it's me Sis." I said again, reassuring her as I gently massaged her scalp. "It's your big brother, here to keep you safe. Here to…"

"I… I'm not hungry," she moaned, before her eyes closed and her head rolled away from me. I stayed silent, just moving back in closer, my tears joining hers, until someone else broke the silence without warning.

"You need to eat, Lynn."

Shaken by the sudden words, I turned up to see Mrs Badger standing there, just as she had been for the last half hour. I could tell that she was getting impatient, and while some part of me was naturally angry, I had to accept that she had a right to be so. However much I wanted her here at all times, I knew that there were a dozen other families going through this exact same pain right at this moment. I glanced down at Lynn, her eyes closed as if asleep but her breath heavy, before turning back up to look at both Mrs Badger and my Mum. My poor Mum who looked even more tired than my Sis, worried and terrified by what was happening to her while her heart slowly split in two from the pain. She hadn't slept, or even left Lynn's bedside ever since she fell sick. The fur around her eyes was stained by the tears she had cried. There was a short harrumph, as Mrs Badger reminded us of what had to be done, before Mum went over to the soup bowl and picked it up. I moved to the side as Mrs Badger came in close, taking her time to slowly stroke Lynn. "You need to keep your strength up to fight the virus," she said, her tone calming down as she waved Mum in close. "And the soup has your medicine in, medicine that will make it less painful and easier to breath."

Dad came over too, and together he and I worked our fingers behind Lynn's head and then cradled it in our paws. Lifting her up and pushing her back so that she was sitting up in her bed, the piles of blankets she was buried under rolling off of her like snow sliding off a roof, we all watched as Mum brought the food over, ready to feed her.

"Please sweetie," Dad said, his calm voice cracking here and there, betraying how desperate he was. "Please, eat for Dad…"

"And for your Big Brother," I added, before Mum spoke too, her voice soft and doting between her sobs.

"And for me, my precious little Vixen. You can do that Lynn, can't you? Come on big girl, you like this soup. It'll be tasty and help you get better."

The soup was placed under her muzzle, the rising aroma sending her nose into a set of soft twitches. Her eyelids fluttered and then strained as they slowly half opened. Managing a faintest of faint grins, she tipped her head down and her tongue appeared, the pink appendage slowly rolling out before dipping into the broth. A sigh of relief flowed across the assembled crowd as the soft sound of her lapping up the food rang out, Mum smiling faintly before she quickly dropped her feeding spoon and just let Lynn lap it all up straight from her bowl. Slowly but surely, lick by lick, the food and medicine began vanishing down her. In that time, Mrs Badger had left and Mum smiled a full, genuine smile as she witnessed the tiny victory in front of her.

Maybe a battle had been won?

But the war still raged on. None of us knew if we were winning. Or loosing… Or who knows?

It was no use thinking about that. Instead it just helped to focus on holding Lynn up, stroking her too hot head a dozen times a minute or so as she carried on eating.

Eating like a baby Kit?

Yes.

But it was eating none the less.

She'd got about three-quarters of the way through when things went wrong. Very wrong.

I'm guessing Dad spotted it first, as I saw his head cock to the side in curiosity before I too saw it. The twitching of her lips. It was far too violent to be shivering, which we'd largely eliminated thanks to the blankets, so we knew that it was one of the trembling fits that had been hitting her for the last two days. Her mouth chattering up and down, as if she was half trying to snap at something, half trying to nibble.

Mum saw it and pulled the food away, expecting it to calm down and the feeding to continue.

Instead it got far worse. Her jaw bites got wider and wider, as if trying to tear into some hanging fruit, while a fraught pleading cry of terror escaped her tiny muzzle as her eyes darted around in confusion. I glanced up to see Mum giving Dad a terrified look, before Lynn's teeth bared and that cry turned to a feral growl. The entire pile of blankets erupted as her limbs began kicking and clawing, tearing the sheet beneath into shreds all while her head thrashed about as if she were a maniac. Letting go of her, I pulled back in shock and just watched as she slipped out of Dad's paws, falling back into her bed where the convulsions got worse and worse.

"GET CHLOE!" Mum screamed, as Dad stood up and bolted out of the door. I heard him thunder down the stairs before I turned back to my sister, looking at what had become of her. Beneath the piles of blankets, she kicked as if she were almost trying to swim. Frantically pushing and pushing her limbs, I looked into to her face to see her eyes almost sealed shut. The few times I saw them open enough to gaze in at her eyes, my heart sank as I saw them tremble about in panic and terror, even though they likely betrayed just a fraction of how scared my brave little sister really was. I just stood there silent, having no idea of what to do to make it better. Mum, meanwhile, was in tears, just screaming out loud again and again. "LYNN! LYNN PLEASE!"

I didn't know if she could hear her or not, but her frontpaw convulsions slowed and she tried to steady herself. Through ragged breaths, made worse as she tried to breathe through her gammed up nose, I heard her strain as she took control of her front-paws and planted them on the torn mattress. She paused, breathing deep for a few seconds as tears flowed from her eyes, and then she pushed up, using all her strength, concentration and willpower. Trembling, Lynn rose up and looked at Mum, both mammal's eyes now pouring with tears of sadness and fear, but a smile of desperate hope growing on their faces. Her hind legs twitched and then they too came under control and, shaking as she did so, she managed to rise onto all four paws. She looked up at Mum, who was trying to dry her tears and compose herself, and managed to open her eyes fully as she walked forwards.

She managed one pace forward.

Then another.

Before her limbs buckled and Lynn keeled over again, growling and whining as she did so. Her eyes were once more filled with terror as yet another seizure began to rack her, and Mum and I could do nothing but watch and cry.

.

.

"I think that confirms it…"

"Confirms what," I asked as I stroked my sleeping sister, even though we all knew the answer. I just didn't want to believe it. Not after what I'd read about it. Heard about it…

"Distemper," Mrs Badger continued, her voice grim with worry. She had every right to be, because among Canines and various other sets of mammals, it had been once been one of the most dreaded killers of all. "One…" she continued, stuttering a bit as she talked. "One of the new arrivals has died from it. He was in his thirties, and from what I gather he grew up on the streets. He never got his shots."

"He got his collar though, didn't he?" my Dad half growled from across the room, his teeth bared and claws out, paws curled up into fists. He'd been pacing back and forth ever since he returned, just watching over Lynn. Just like me he was angry, angry at the Zootopians for doing this to _her_.

' _Whmmmmph…._ '

I turned back to face her, and watched with pity as another set of convulsions racked her tiny body. Her jaw was scowling open and saliva was pouring out in waves, soaking her fur and blankets, all while she whined.

"She's going to be all right, isn't she?" Mum asked, suddenly sounding very hopeful and sure of herself, although I could easily pick up the fear in her voice, lingering like a shadow in the background. The fear that the answer would be no.

Mrs Badger was silent, rapping her toe claws as she thought, before she gave her answer. "I'm not an expert… but I do know that she should be coming to the end of the primary fever. Overnight, it should recede rapidly. She'll still have the disease, and have and second fever round after a week or so, but…"

"But?" Dad asked, leaning over Mrs Badger as he desperately waited for the answer.

"But it should be less serious than this one." She replied, to the sighs of relief from my Parents. "There will likely be complications, but we'll put her on a round of antibiotics to stave off any further secondary infections in the short term. Won't do much to help beat the virus, bar freeing up bits of her immune system here and there, but it's the most we can do."

"And in the long term?" I asked as I stroked her hand with my paw, my pads lingering over her now significantly harder ones.

"I see your looking at her Pads."

"I've read that this was called hardpad disease," I replied. "I can see why."

"Hardpads might be a pain, but they're easily manageable," Mrs Badger replied, as she leant down next to me to observe them. She slowly took one of Lynn's paws and carefully exposed the pads beneath, taking the time to slowly prod each one gently with her own claws, before turning back to us. "Back in Zootopia Equids wore iron shoes to protect their hooves from impact damage, and I'm sure a good tailor like your father, and you for that matter, could branch out into shoes and boots."

"Yeh," I replied, still doting on my sister as I carried on speaking. "Maybe make some nice big boots for her. Brown with a metal buckle or something on them, I think she'll like that. Won't you Sis?"

Lynn's only reply was her heavy, strained breaths. The question went unanswered for a dozen seconds or so, until Mrs Badger picked up from where she'd left off. "Exactly, and in any case, while I'm no expert, these seem to be in good condition. No cracks or anything."

"So, she'll be fine," Mum said as she too came over close, this time to pick up Lynn and cuddle her close against her chest, gently bouncing her up and down as she did so. Even in her torpor like state, Lynn knew what was happening and smiled, slowly nuzzling into Mum's chest fur as she sought out its comforting warmth and scent.

"I can't guarantee that. There is a slim chance that she'll suffer neurological deterioration, but I must stress that this is highly unlikely. Incontinence is unlikely but possible, and she may develop a neurological tic or twitch. Also, how many adult teeth does she have?"

Mum paused, thinking, before carefully opening Lynn's mouth with a claw to check. "Her front teeth and one of her canines… She lost another canine just before this. Is that important?"

Mrs Badger nodded. "The disease can commonly weaken developing teeth, making them weak and brittle. We have little sugar in our diet which helps, but no fluorine in our water which doesn't. Regardless, I'd advise that if she survives…"

"When," Dad interrupted sternly, before letting Mrs Badger continue.

"If she survives" she said, ignoring Dad's scowl, "then you put her on a very strict dental program."

He paused, turning away and giving a faint, weak chuckle. "Sounds like you're trying to sell more of your homemade toothbrushes and paste…" He muttered, although silence filled the air as his joke fell flat. It was only when another whimper came out of Lynn, and her convulsions forced Mum to put her back down, that the silence was broken by Mrs Badger.

"Marie, John… She may die," she announced glumly. "But if she survives tonight, and dear god is she fighting, then we should be past the darkest hour. Keep her warm, keep her fed, keep her loved. There's nothing more I can…"

She was silenced as the bang of the front door below being slammed open echoed through the building. We all paused as we heard the sound of a mammal racing up the stairs, before Madge Badger burst into the room panting.

"Madge…" her Mum began to stay, only to be interrupted by her daughter.

"Antibodies in the milk!"

"What?"

"Mothers pass antibodies to their babies in their milk!"

"You… You'll have to explain this," Mrs Badger stuttered out, as an excited Madge made her way over to my Mum.

"Mrs Wilde's been selling her milk to the creamery ever since she weaned Lynn, hasn't she?"

"Yes," her mother replied, her mouth piquing with interest as she did so. "I've been selling her a tradition herb mix to keep the rate up for years."

"And she got a distemper shot back in Zootopia!"

There was a pause, then as the realisation hit the rest of the crowds everyone's faces lit up. For the first time in days I saw hope, true hope, in my mother's eyes as she stood up, before racing off. She'd been milking herself for years, to the point where even in this crisis she'd done it out of habit. What she didn't have time for was moving the tubs over to the creamery, meaning that we had a ready supply here in the house. As the two Honey badgers left, aiming to spread their realisation to anyone else who it may help, we woke Lynn up and slowly fed her.

It was painful and slow, forcing the liquid down her. A few times, she gargled it up and let it dribble down her front. We just recovered what we could and carried on, maybe spending some time to wipe the gunk out of her fur. Slowly but surely, we worked through the supply and eventually, as it approached dinner time, Lynn had drunk all the milk.

Maybe it wouldn't help?

But even though her coughing, wheezing and shaking continued. Even though her eyes still looked out with fear or cried with sadness, gummed up with white mucus and pus and, on a few occasions, having one of her pale white nictitating membranes stuck partway over the eye… Even though her fever raged on and her breath wheezed through her hard, blocked up nose…

We had hope.

I had hope…

My sister was going to survive the night, and live.

.

As night fell, I brought my own basket into my parent's room and we moved Lynn over into it. There was enough room in there for two mammals plus her, so Dad decided to sleep in his own bed for the night. That left Mum and I snuggling up with her. Keeping her warm. Giving her company and comfort through her darkest hour. We wrapped in around her, embracing so that she was surrounded my familiar fur on either side, with a thick blanket on top to keep her warm.

It was crowded.

It was hot.

But neither Mum or I would have it any other way.

Lynn had come back too an hour or so ago, and so we both took the time to give her a preening. She may have been covered in spit, mucus, days old food and gunk, but we'd be damned if she didn't get the tender loving care that she deserved. While she still groaned or whimpered with pain, the odd sound of a purr here and there made our hearts swell, even though our tongues were soon laced with the taste of oil, dirt, mucus and other fluids. We'd do it all ten times over just to get another purr from her. To make her know that we wouldn't be abandoning her. That things were going to be okay.

.

Mum and Lynn fell asleep before me, rather easy as her kicks kept on coming in my direction. At one point I almost cried out in pain as one of her claws caught me, but still I stayed by her side. It was much later on, as the slats of moonlight filtered in through Dad's 'rooflight' that she woke.

"Niiiick…." She mewled out, her voice sounding slightly stronger. Her voice alone would have roused me, but pricking my ears as I heard her strength begin to return, I wasted no time in pulling off my sleeping mask to look on her face.

"Yes dear?" I asked, smiling as my night vision let me see her amber eyes fully open, glistening in the moonlight. However, I couldn't help but notice the fear in them. Nor the way her legs were beginning to convulse again, while her lower jaw trembled as if she were shivering.

"Am… Am I… Am I going to… to…to die?" She managed to say through her shakes, her voice breaking as she said it and tears beginning to flow from her eyes.

My ears folding back with worry, I pushed myself closer to her and planted a soft kiss on her burning hot nose. "No Lynn," I told her, cradling the back of her head with my paw as I brought her in for a hug, feeling her small hot body against mine and curling up to protect it. "You are going to live!" I said, not a word being a lie.

It was a certainty.

It was a simple fact.

My sister was going to live.

"Nick…" she managed to say again, as she began to sob. In the moonlight, I saw the gleam of tears coming out of her gammy eyes as she carried on. "I'm… I'm scared…"

"Don't be!" I told her. "Because you, Lynn Francine Wilde, are a brave girl. You are a strong girl. A big strong girl who's going to live on and who's going to have a great, great life. You remember last month, two days after your birthday when we played together on the beach?"

She nodded ever so slightly, but the smile she managed to put on her pale, quivering and twitching lips told me how much she remembered. All of it.

"Remember running on the sands Lynn? Building our sandcastles and the huge game of football you and your classmates played, where I'd been the referee. Me teaching you to skip stones on the bay and how we went for long swims in the cold water. We'd splash and play about until we were shivering to the bone! Then we raced out and furiously dug out holes above the tideline didn't we? All down on all fours, our front paws shovelling out sand behind us, or in your case onto your tail, before we both buried ourselves in warm sand. You said that you were bored after ten or so minutes, and so I blew raspberries at you, and you me, and I told jokes that made you laugh…"

Even in her dire state, I saw her giggle, before she rolled her eyes and her lips parted, miming out the words 'three humped camel…'

"Pregnant!"

I smiled as I watched the shadow of giggle crawl across her muzzle, before she pulled in a deep breath and spoke in a quiet voice, but one the was clear and smooth. "I remember burrowing out and licking your ears…"

"I remember that too!" I replied, giggling back with her. "You sure know how to tickle your big-bro!"

She nodded, and I leant in to kiss her. "Wanna hear another joke?"

She nodded slightly, but I frowned, shaking my head.

"I want to you speak out, like the strong girl you are Lynn."

"Okay," she whispered back. "I wanna hear another joke."

"There you go! Not too hard is it for my brave little Sister. Now, what do you call a cow's facial hair?"

She paused, her eyes closing as she thought for a bit, before she shrugged. "I don't know…"

"A Moostache!"

.

There was a pause, before Lynn curled up and began chuckling. I smiled as I watch her try and hold her laugh in, only for it to squeak out of her muzzle as it ran its course. Her eyelids were closing again, and I could tell that she was going to sleep, so I chose to give her a message to keep the bad dreams away. "You, Lynn Wilde, are going to live. We're going to be back on that beach in less than a month, and we're going to make that day look like the most boring lesson in school! You got me?"

She nodded, and I nodded too. "I'm gonna live…"

"You're gonna live," I replied and, as she drifted back to sleep, her paws and muzzle burying deep into the warmth of my fur for comfort as I kissed her, I said it again. Because I believed it.

Because it was the truth.

Because damn this disease…

My Sister, Lynn Wilde, was going to live.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I said it again when I woke up early in the morning, as the dawns light flowed in and heralded a new day…

.

.

.

I said it again as I felt the warm fur against me, slowly moving as it breathed in and out, stirring as the light woke her up.

.

.

.

And I said it again as I felt the cold nose, and cold pads, and cold fur up against me, still cuddled between us and only moving when we moved it…

.

.

.

I said it again as I cradled my sister, sitting up now and holding her tight against me as my eyes began to mist. Telling her, ordering her! Trying to get her to wake up and smile and to laugh as she always did, even as I felt her stiff limbs splay out as I held her close in my arms…

.

.

.

I said it again as my Mum woke up. She blinked, her mouth quivering as she slowly put her hand out and took Lynn from me. Holding my sister against her body, she gently rocked and bounced her up and down and closed her eyes as the tears began to flow out. She was silent at first. Then came a sob. Then the cries as she just said my Sisters name over and over again, as if saying it enough would bring her back.

"Lynn…"

"Lynn…..

"LYNN!"

Her cries exploded into full on screams. I just watched as my Mum wailed and shook, breaking down into tears as she took her baby closer and closer into her arms, hugging her tight and fussing with her fur as she did so.

I saw whatever hope she had left in her eyes vanish, as she stopped believing that her little Vixen would live.

I just stood there silent, not knowing what to do.

What to think.

I never knew when I stopped believing…

.

.

.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Mrs Clawhauser told me, as I stood by the gates of the school a few days later. She was quiet, her voice almost hoarse, and just like the liars before she was doing her mock politeness as society dictated. I didn't care this time though. Any insult I would have got from it just sailed over my head. It was the same for any relief, or comfort or whatever else I should have felt too.

"Thank you," was all I could say, before I slowly turned and began walking off. Away from the school, and the kids who were still attending. Still playing. Their crazy little games and happiness filled screams slowly fading away as I returned home. I'd wandered out as usual, ready to drop my sister off at the school in the morning. I'd dropped by the bakery, to pick up our food. When they only gave one pie, I asked where the second one was and without saying a word they gave it to me.

Maybe I should stop doing this trip anymore?

I had to admit, it was rather pointless.

My Sister was gone.

I knew that Lynn had died, of course I knew that. That was why I'd left her pie on the stone where we usually sat to eat our breakfast. She wasn't here to eat it, was she? I still ate the pastry case though, seeing as she didn't like that part.

Maybe she'd have learned to like it given a few more years?

The sky was a beautiful blue, the forests a deep green while the mountains up above were a beautiful pastel shade. The chirping of insects was everywhere, as were the calls and cries of children, still echoing out from the school. But the colours just seemed so much greyer, and the laughter so much more muffled now. It was same for the food, even the nicest and sweetest things that I could buy tasting almost, but not quite, like porridge oats or gruel, whatever it really was. I opened the door to our shop, ignoring the closed sign, and walked past the dust gathering racks of fabric. I went into the lounge, passing the cold fireplace, and walked out into the garden. Passing overgrown flowerbeds and berry bushes whose fruit was more often than not rotting off, I found a deck chair and sat down in it. Closing my eyes, and just sitting there.

Silent.

Alone.

Not feeling anything, or anyone. Two days had passed, and I hadn't cried or screamed or sobbed, or anything really. I hadn't broken down like my Mum, or gone into a terrible rage like my Dad, who ended up smashing a table and chewing on its leg as he screamed out…

In pain.

In rage.

In sorrow.

Both Mum and Dad had known what to do, accepting Lynn's death and dealing with it in ways they saw fit.

I didn't know what to do.

I just knew that my sister was gone…

.

.

.

"Farewell Sis," I told the wrapped corpse as we lit the funeral pyre. I stepped back as I watched the fire race through the bundles of sticks and the oil coated wood. Soon it was blazing, crackling and roaring, the tiny body of the little Vixen lost in the flames. My Mum just wailed and wailed, unable to stand or speak, while my Dad comforted her, letting her rest upon him for support. His head leaning in, he softly nuzzled her while sobbing himself. There were other fires too on that day. Just as there had been the day before. Just as there were the day after.

At all of them, I noticed other mammals doing the things that you'd expect.

Unlike me…

Maybe I was sick in the head, or some psychopath?

Maybe I had no empathy, or no emotions?

Maybe I was a freak, or a monster…

All I knew was that my sister was gone…

Out of the fifty mammals, forty of them canines, who'd caught the disease. Who'd closed their eyes and gritted their teeth as the distemper burned through them. Who'd suffered the pain, and the shakes, some of whom may have been crippled for life now.

A dozen had died.

All of them, bar patient zero, were young children…

_Heh, nice use of a scientific term there…_

I watched silently as the others cried. Their wails tugged me too, tearing and pulling at me and I felt myself mist up, but I didn't really see why I should be crying. My body didn't want to cry. Even though the tears should have been pouring out, they just didn't come.

I knew then that I probably was some kind of monster.

A new thing I knew.

Along with the fact that my sister was gone…

.

.

.

I stood back at the small plot in the cemetery as I finished help Mum plant Lynn's grave. We'd scattered her ashes in a carved stone pot, settled down on a flat slab of rock. Burying her dust under the dirt, Dad had returned with some foxgloves, which we'd planted over her. So that their roots would work down, and take what was left of her, and grow strong from her.

All of it was hemmed in and guarded with a small metal fence, the railings painted jet black but otherwise undecorated. In time, I guessed, nature would do that for us. Mosses would grow on the urn. Wildflowers would grow up around it and through the fence, hiding it. A crown of pink and purples and white foxgloves would grow on top of it. But now, the whole place was as unadorned as the simple words that had been carved and embossed into a jet black slab of slate, which we'd tied onto the railing and where it would stand, long after we too were gone.

.

Lynn Francine Wilde.

1994-2002.

Taken from us too soon by Distemper.

Aged 8.

.

I just shrugged as I read it.

Were they supposed to tug at me?

Affect me?

As far as I could see, those were simply all facts… Facts that were true…

Together with Dad, I held my crying Mum up as we took her away, and I thought about all the things that I missed about Lynn. Hundreds of happy, love filled memories struck out. Thoughts about how she brightened up my day to day routine, be cheeky, or fussy. How you could go from hating her and loving her at the same time, to just loving her fully in less than a minute or so…

I shook my head.

No use crying over it.

My sister was gone…

.

.

.

"How're you holding up Nick…"

It had been one week. One tired, dull and boring week since Lynn died and everything sort of changed, as if all the colour had been taken from the world.

I'd gone back to work.

That was okay…

Boring though.

And here I was talking with Hester, about how I was coping. I stood in the front room, working on some stitching as she came over to hug me around the shoulder. Her touch was warm and soft, and I felt myself relax as she pulled me into a silent hug, her cheek fur nuzzling against mine.

Putting down my work, I weakly hugged her back, my muzzle against her fur as I smelled in her scent. Her warm scent. Her scent filled with love and cheekiness, that reminded me of my sister. Her scent filled with the scents of the land and sea and, of course, Fox.

.

Just like my sisters…

.

Hester's scent, that made me want to stand by her and protect her. Die for her…

.

Just like with my Mum, when she was having my sister.

.

Just like…

.

Just like…

.

Just like Lynn's scent...

.

I sobbed… I sobbed again and pulled into Hester tight, my arms wrapped around her back and my paws clawing into her skin as I tried to hold on, suddenly scared at what was happening.

The tears just kept on coming out and out, and I struggled to breath.

Struggled to think.

.

About anything…

.

Except Lynn…

.

I realised what was happening, and like a slave I let it happen. My sobs turned into cries.

My cries into screams.

And the dam finally broke after one week. One week where I'd walked around with a hole torn in my heart. One week where I'd walked around, just doing things, like a good robot would. Not wanting to feel. Not knowing what to feel. And all that time, just thinking and grieving…

.

About how I was missing her. How I was missing her every single day and hour and minute and second. How I missed her so much that I didn't want to think about her. Be reminded that she wouldn't pop or run out of a door and past me or to me or into me at any second.

.

About all the fun we'd had together. All the fun we were going to have together…

.

About the hole her death had caused, how it had torn me apart.

And broken me.

.

"MY SISTER IS GONE!" I screamed, wailing into Hester as I just shook and shook and shook, clinging onto her for dear life as she held me back tight. Tear after tear just kept pouring out as I remembered her. I remembered the times we'd played and laughed and joke and bickered and snuggled and… and…

And all the times we could have had.

All this time I didn't know how to grieve for Lynn, thinking that I was coping by bottling it up, but it was like letting a cancer grow inside of my, slowly making me weaker and weaker. Only now it was coming out, and I felt nothing but the sobs and wails racking my body as Hester slowly picked me up and guided us, together, into a chair.

We sat down together, me still hugging her and crying into her, still desperate for her soft comforting fur and scent to help me through this. A shoulder to cry on. Someone to take my fear and sadness from me. I hugged her tight, my tears still flowing, and she hugged me back as I felt the drips of her tears falling onto me.

She never left me, just like I never left Lynn. She would stay with me, together, until the end.

Only this time there was a happy end, and knowing that I just cried and wailed and sobbed some more.

It must have been hours that we sat there. She, holding me tight and being there for me. Me, shaking and crying. Scared and helpless.

Only this time, my tears and cries ended with me alive.

Ready to face another day…

And as I recovered, slowly standing up as I breathed in and tried to think, I felt better.

My Sister was gone.

She was never coming back.

And it had broken me. It had made me sadder than I'd ever been before. Made me feel things that I never wanted to feel again.

But it was over now. I'd still be sad for a long time, but slowly the clouds would pass.

But, knowing what life was life under them, I realised something. And so, after taking a stiff drink to calm my nerves, I went back to the lounge and prepared.

Got Ready.

Ready to tell Hester something I'd realise about what that week meant for me. What that pain meant for me.

And what it meant for her.

It was something that she had to know.

.

.

"What do you mean, what I want Nick?" She asked incredulously, tilting her head sharply to the side as she did so. I paused, still dabbing my eyelids to dry the moisture left from the endless tears, before I continued.

"You… you wanted Kits, didn't you?" I asked her, before I saw her nod slowly. I'd seen how she'd doted over Lynn, and the other children in the school. Heck, she was going to work as a teacher sooner or later, that was how much she loved the little ones. But it was in there that the problem lay.

"When I lost… when I lost Lynn," I slowly said, struggling as I tried to put my thoughts into words. "It was like someone had torn out my heart. I didn't know what to feel, I think I just operated like a machine for a week or so until…"

"Until I helped you," she interrupted, a smile growing on her muzzle.

"Yes, but I still miss her. I still hurt Hess, even now… And it's a horrible pain. Horrible, horrible…"

"Horrible?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, but my mood soon returned to its sour state. "What I'm saying is that I never want to go through that again Hess! I never want to experience something that bad… or put myself at risk of something that bad again… And for what they say about Foxes mating for life, I'm certain you can still find a brave Todd who isn't a coward like me and…"

**SLAP…**

I yipped in pain as I felt the flat of her paw smack into me, almost knocking me to the floor. I looked up at her, still cradling my stinging muzzle, as she went forward and hugged me.

"You dumb Fox," she muttered, "You dumb, dumb, dumb Fox…"

"Care to explain," I moaned, before she pulled back and kissed me gently on my nose.

"You're still grieving," she said slowly, taking the time to explain it. "You'll get better though. You'll soon be back to form, and even if you aren't, I'm not gonna mate with anyone else! Foxes mate for life, remember? It's a bit too late for us to find new mates now, isn't it? YOU are my mate Nick, YOU are the father of my Kits and that's the way it'll stay."

"Are you sure about that?" I muttered as I got up, turning to walk away but pausing as I sniffed another whiff of her potent scent, which practically commanded me to stay.

"I'm sure," she replied as she jumped forward and hugged me tight, before her voice went ever so sly and cheeky in the way I both feared and loved. "Besides Slick, it isn't like you have any real choice anymore, is it?"

I turned to face her, cocking my head at her remark, before my gaze and nose slowly lowered. As if on que, she unbuttoned her trousers and let them fall to the floor. Her scent was intoxicating, and I stepped forward until my nose hovered just between her legs, and I sniffed in deep and hard as she giggled, ruffling my head fur gently with her claws. Her scent screamed at me, commanding me to protect her. To serve her. To lie down my life to protect her and our…

Our…

I gulped, and suddenly feeling very scared again I tilted my head up to see whether what she was saying was right. Looking up, I saw her smile and nob, before I suddenly felt very dizzy.

I remember seeing her eyes open wide in horror, as the room suddenly spun into a blur before my vision went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTTC_fD598A


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30:**

.

A chill breeze was racing through the station as Nick exited the train. Stepping out, his pads making contact with the cold stone beneath him, the Fox walked forward while taking the time to compose himself.

Tie straightened and tight?

Check.

.

Suit pressed and clean?

Check.

.

Fur all well-groomed and neat?

Check.

.

Tame collar light polished and shining out bright green?

Nick coughed and let his mouth open into a little sneer at the thought of making his chains presentable. For all he cared the thing could be a scratched up muddy wreck that stood out like a sore thumb, but he still wouldn’t give it the credence of any care and attention, no matter how much it detracted from the rest of his appearance. Instead, as he exited the station and made his way briskly out into Tundratown central square, he held his hat down firmly and double his pace, heading straight for the bulking edifice of Kozlov’s family dining.

Sculpted out of snow and ice, the huge building dominated the south side of the square was a true spectacle, albeit one that had long since faded from its original glory. The Doric columns on either side of the entrance, which framed the giant windows to the front rooms, supported intricate arches and domes that had once been awash with finely detailed carvings and motifs. It was said that, when building this part of town, an entire generation of lemming, ermine or shrew workers had plied their craft as they worked on the decorations. While such notions were somewhat fanciful, it was true that decades had been spent on finishing off all the decorations present.

But in the years that had passed since then, their work had slowly faded into obscurity.

Quite literally.

It wasn’t simply ice and snow that these buildings had been built from, but rather a composite made using plastic shards along with the frozen water, all supported by a reinforced concrete frame buried deep within. It made each wall and beam far stronger than regular snow and ice, apparently not that far off from the concrete at its centre, as well as far more resistant to melting.

But still, on the summer days when the temperature dipped up into the positives during midday, damage would still be done. The bulk of ice, storing up the nights cold, meant that nothing structural was affected. But the small details, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. Fingers, tails, arms, ears… They all warmed up faster than the heat could escape into the rest of the structure and so, in spite of the mighty effort of the Zootopian climate engineering systems, they slowly melted, shedding a few drips each and every year. The vulnerable features slowly withered and sagged as the decade’s past, as if being eaten by acid, while the meltwater escaped only to re-freeze at night in the mouths and eyes of mammals beneath, filling them in.

One would have thought winter would be a salvation, but instead it brought its own challenges. Blowing snow would pool in the crevice’s and cracks, piling up and up and fixing themselves in place. They grew on the figures, like cancerous tumours, hiding their faces just enough so it seemed like they were screaming out in fear.

Passing beneath them all, Nick’s eyes caught the figure of what was once an Arctic Fox gargoyle, standing proud and sentinel one the ledge that separated a column from an arch. He, or she, must have been pretty once. Peering out optimistically, tail flowing excitedly behind like a young Kit as he or she leant out into the air, held up by the tight grip of one of his arms which held on behind him, while the other shielded his eyes from the glare. But now the elements had taken their toll. The space beneath his (Nick had decided at this point, that it was a he) arm had been filled in with snow and ice over many years which had fused him to the structure behind while his facial features seemed flat and numb, the eyes blanked out. It was almost like he’d been melted, like a wax-work left out in Sahara square, or had conflicted some terrible disfiguring disease. The real Fox couldn’t help but imagine that his snow made companion must have had his first ever experience of a collar, and shocked that it would attack something so harmless as itself, had panicked more and more. Shock after shock would follow, until some saviour hand tore that collar off only to see the damage that had been done. A once fine and innocent thing, safe now but curse to forever hold those scars.

Nick shook his head and carried on in, through the big open doors and making his way quickly towards a large Arctic Wolf concierge. Doffing his hat, giving his name and politely asking for a seat in the Kamyaktia room, he watched his lupine cousin check the register before pausing, his eyes fixed on the name that stood there, sitting next to the name that he’d just heard. The concierge nodded his head and briskly led Nick on. Unlike the outside, the inside had kept its level of detail largely intact, with the walls ribbed and ceilings vaulted or arched, effort being put in to sculpt in millions of indented lines to give the impression of brickwork being used. Up here everything was painted a bright blue by the lights filtering through the ice, the perfect colour for the bustling family caterers that worked here. But going down, red began to take over, as if they were entering a great icy hell. Pausing, the Wolf stood by a finely wood polished door and gave Nick a salute, before bowing and showing the Fox in.

The Kamyaktia room, or red room as certain mammals called it, was nothing like the rest of the building. Its pure snow ceiling was low enough to almost make it a hazard for the polar bears that frequented here, while it was more than that for any reindeer given the thick scratches here or there. Without a big arch to support it, the load of the structure above was instead taken by short squat pillars or thick walls that divided up the establishment into numerous small booths. The only thing that unified them was that, wherever you were, you’d always have a view of the well-stocked bar at the rooms centre. While the rest of the building’s interior was carved intricately, with the ridges well defined and sharp, everything here looked far more melted and worn that even the stuff on the outside. It was almost like this place had been made from dripping wax. The most noticeable thing about this room, however, was the thing that gave it its informal name. While the corridors outside had been painted with red light, some of the ghostly ice blue or grey had still managed to seep in. Here, however, red was dominant and truly made you feel as if you were in the belly of the beast. A feeling certainly helped by the intense smell of spirits, food and other mammals that were trapped in here. But it was a feeling that Nick didn’t have in the slightest as he sat down at a nearby, and permanently reserved, table and patiently waited, until a waiter came up to him and introduced himself, before asking what he’d like to eat.

“Prawn Bisque with naan bread and cous-cous,” the Fox immediately replied, much to the waiter’s confusion.

“Uh, Sir…” he began, still trying to be as polite as possible. “We don’t have that on our menu.”

“I stand by my order,” Nick replied, firm in what he said. He closed his eyes and leant back in his chair, rapping his paws as he waited… until sitting up again when he realised that the waiter hadn’t moved so much as an inch. He was just standing there with his notepad open in front of him and his head tilted sharply to the side, something that Nick joined him in as they just stood there silently amid the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, their eyes never breaking contact.

“And, Sir, I need to remind you that your order is not on our menu,” the waiter finally said, speaking quietly and desperately trying not to offend.

Nick, however, was more impatient than anything else. “I said I wanted Prawn Bisque, naan bread and cous-cous…”

“Well, Sir,” the waiter replied back, having snapped out of his meekness and becoming quite irate. Standing up as tall as he could manage, he puffed himself up and tried to make himself as intimidating as possible, something that Nick was finding rather amusing given the size difference between him and the otter in front of him. Undeterred however, the mustelid held up his finger and firmly drove the point home. “I’d like to serve you prawn Bisque, naan Bread and Cous-cous, but we have neither Prawn Bisque, naan Bread or Cous-Cous!”

Sitting down and looking back at him, Nick just shook his head slowly before smiling. “First day mate?”

“Uh… yes! But what does…” The Otter began, blinking as he did so, only to be interrupted part way through.

“And I’m assuming you haven’t been given the full briefing?”

“What full briefing?” The Otter asked, before the sound of a massive foot stamping down behind him shook him, sending him ram rod straight as a giant white paw patted him down on the head. Looking up, the mustelid saw a big Polar Bear waitress looming above him. She shook his head slowly, before turning to Nick.

“I’m sorry Sir, that’s my fault.”

“No problem,” Nick shrugged, before a sly grin grew across his muzzle. “Want to give him a demonstration now?”

“Why sure,” the waitress replied, a sly grin on her muzzle and a devious look in her eyes. With one hand she pushed back the smaller waiter before bringing her paws together and bowing slightly. “Your order please?”

“Prawn Bisque with Naan Bread and Cous-cous please.”

The Otter looked up at his superior and his eyes went wide as her pads gripped her nametag, sliding the front along a bit. With one of her claws, she pressed a newly uncovered button before turning forward, a giant grin on her face. The Otters mouth dropped down at the sight in front of him, almost reaching the floor, before his collar went orange and he keeled over, his paw still outstretched in front of him.

“Shame!” Nick wryly comment with a shrug of the shoulders, as the wall behind him slid open and his chair slowly raised himself up. “He missed the best part!”

“That he did,” The Waitress replied as Nick’s chair tipped sharply back, the Fox slipping off of it and into the wall behind him. A moment passed, before the chair tilted back upright and sunk back down to its normal level, while the wall behind closed up. She turned down to the small otter and picked him up, cradling him in her arms. “Just be glad he didn’t order the Kipper Vindaloo with egg-fried noodles,” she teased, as she carried the tiny mustelid into a back room to recover.

.

Deep down in the depths of the Winter palace, lay Kozlov’s lair itself. Built like the rest of the building and decked out with the best crystal clear ice-furniture, it kept the fearsome mafia boss safe and in a good deal of comfort, whatever was going on outside. The beeping light on his desk, however, showed that what was going on the outside would soon be in here. With a sigh the lumbering Ursine stood up from his sofa, from where he’d been watching the crazed antics of a popular comedian Bunny with a penchant for nudity, wisecracking, mischief and a catchphrase that presumed that everyone was either a medical professional or held a doctorate, before turning the TV off and sitting down at his desk. Checking that the chair opposite him was in the right position, he pressed a second button and watched as a large panel in the ceiling split open, before a Fox was spat out. The Bear’s eyes opened in shock and he grimaced as a sickening thud, followed by a pained groan, filled the air.

“My apologies Nikolai,” he said slowly. “It appears the spin around part is broken again, yes?”

There was a silence as the Vulpine in front of him lifted his brush off the table and spun himself around so that he was sitting up in the chair, how he was supposed to enter this room, not head first as he’d done so. “Yes….” He moaned back, taking off his now crumpled hat to slowly rub his aching head, before pausing and spotting the cobwebs and dust that covered him. “And so were some of the conveyers,” he added, his voice decidedly more annoyed now. “I spent half the time in there walking forwards on all fours! As is evident, it also seems that no-ones been cleaning it.”

“Apart from that, how is whole system? Long time since last test, Da?”

“I think whoever maintains that needs to be introduced to the miracle of a vacuum cleaner, and WD-forty.” Nick replied rather irately, holding a stern finger up as he tried to make his point. He paused for a second, his eyes squinting, before he made a slight clarification. “Make that WD four-hundred instead…”

“Why?” Kozlov enquired, waving over a waiter with a large sharing platter of sushi as he spoke. “Too much squeaking?”

“I feel like I have an orchestra of mice in my head,” the Fox complained, as he grabbed a nearby fork and picked up a roll of salmon roe wrapped up in the traditional thin green nori. He opened his maw ready to take in the food, only to pause at the sound of the Ursine mob boss’ deep, loud chuckling.

“Da! Maybe that because they practice in room 7B ready for tonight!”

Nick’s mouth closed before stretching up into a smile as he snickered and huffed out, a thick cloud of breath escaping from his nose. “I assume room 7B is near the conveyor belt?” he enquired, before finally putting the roll into his mouth and slowly chewing, smiling as he savoured the taste of the numerous orange orbs bursting over his tongue.

“In space the outfit swapper used to go,” Kozlov replied, before leaning down and picking up a pair of chopsticks. Unlike the Fox, he was happy to use the traditional methods of eating this cuisine, although that was helped in part due to the fact these chopsticks were about the same size as school rulers, letting him sandwich the rolls without risk of them spinning loose.

“Fair ‘nuff,” Nick muttered back as he stuck his fork into a rice roll covered in salmon, before moving it over to a bowl full of soy-sauce. “It’s a crying shame you couldn’t get that thing working. Or all of the system for that matter. Those things look so good in all the cartoons or movies, but next time I think I’ll just the front door in. You aimed too high, that was what happened.”

“Too optimistic, Da” the mafia Don agreed, as he went straight in and pincered half a dozen various bits of food between his chopsticks. “Although I should guess that technician was overhyping.”

Nick rolled his eyes as he put in his next piece, quickly swallowing it before turning back to Kozlov. “What did you do with him?” he asked, pointing his fork towards the don and waving it about as he spoke.

The Polar bear looked up at the ceiling, thinking as he chewed his food before swallowing. “I first not pay him. Then I make him do clothe changing.”

“So wait, did I pass him by up there?” The Fox asked, closing his eyes and recounting the twisting route he’d taken through the ducts, slides and conveyors of the winter palace.

“No, not that kind of clothes changing…” he replied, all while Nick’s head cocked sharply to the side out of curiosity. Kozlov paused, his paw up in the air and a chopstick with three rolls skewered on the end waving about, before he shook his head and carried on, both skewering more food and talking all at the same time. “He was employee, so I just demote him to looking after Babushka.”

“How is she?” Nick asked, his voice tinged with concern as he spoke, before turning his attention to picking up a wasabi covered fillet of raw tuna with his fork.

The Polar Bear paused again and sighed, before looking down. “Half mad, senile, forgetful, weak… bedridden, incontinent. Great punishment for cocky lynx though! Ever seen tiny Kitty-kat try to change polar bear adult diaper during chronic diarrhoea fit!” He closed his eyes and chuckled, all while taking in his next batch of food and slowly chewing it, taking his time to savour the taste. Nick however was less impressed, in no part due to the unwelcome image currently filling his mind, and deftly slid his own food off his fork before putting his cutlery down. Gently coughing, he brought the Ursine’s attention around just as he swallowed his next bite. “Da?” he asked, as Nick stood up straight and spoke out the speech he’d been preparing ever since booking this meeting.

“Two days ago I had the pleasure of being a guest of the ZPD. They’d brought me in due to a tiny slip of evidence that linked me to my last orphan rescue.”

Kozlov’s eyes opened with worry, or potentially from the large helping of Wasabi he’d just had, and he leaned forward, his eyes scowling. “You get cocky...”

“No!” Nick replied, completely unphased with worry despite having just interrupted Zootopia’s most notorious crime boss. “They just had the teeniest, tiniest bit of evidence to link me in. Although of course they had the giant one too.”

“What giant one?”

Nick smirked as he brought up his paws, giving each one a cursory glance before speaking. “I was caught red-handed.”

The Polar Bear snorted while Nick sighed, both mammals sitting upright as the smaller one continued to speak. “Anyway, after getting this annoying bunny on my tail, who cannot shake the idea that Fox equals guilty out of her head…”

“I am sorry!” Kozlov interrupted, his paw up. “This is relevant why?”

“Because afterwards, while exiting the ZPD, I spotted a savage Pred being led in.” Nick replied, pausing as he remembered the feral mammal’s fevered insanity.

“And this is relevant, why?” The mafia boss asked again, before he pulled back at the fierce scowl coming from the smaller mammal in front of him.

“Because Viktor,” Nick growled, angry enough to both do that and mutter the first name of the mafia boss at the same time. “We are friends and business partners in this operation. Friends and business partners who SHARE INFORMATION!” Kozlov just stood still and silent, too shocked to answer as Nick carried on. “And sharing information should include information which we would naturally consider as false, but is erstwhile true. For instance, given that the Prey hate us and love putting in little lies, I’d assumed that this ‘Savage’ thing was just some false scare story or something. But it is real, and alive, and DON’T tell me that the biggest crime organisation in this city hasn’t heard about it. So, what do you have to say Viktor?”

“WHAT IN NAME OF BLOODY HELL!” he screamed out at the unflinching Fox, smashing his paw down at the ice table with enough force to shatter it clear in two. Had he not been wearing a fixed collar, a rather unamused Nick was certain that he would be dead now, but instead he stood above him continuing his screaming. “I NOT BELIEVE IT!”

“Believe what?” Nick snarked back, as the mob boss stood up and began pacing back and forth across the room. “Because right now, the only thing that I don’t believe is that you were willingly holding back useful information from ME!”

“You know what I don’t believe Nikolai?” Kozlov asked, somewhat sarcastic before his face scowled with anger and he began shouting again. “That dumb Fox like you would treat Kozlov with such disrespect! That he would insult me! Ask about most hurtful moments and…”

“So you do know something,” Nick casually said, a faint smile growing across his muzzle as he spotted a nervous twitch beneath the bear’s eye.

“That is irrelevant…” he growled, “what is not is who you think you are to interrupt, and insult ME!?”

.

A silence filled the room as Nick stood up and straightened his tie once more before speaking out in an honest, truthful voice. “I’ll explain who I am to you in simple words that you can understand. I am the link between you and your children. I am the mammal who gave them a life without Tame collars. I am the man from the knights of the muzzle who ‘stole’ them away in the middle of the night to do ‘nefarious’ things to them. I am the person who can smuggle them back to you or you to them and who, right now, keeps our entire organisation going. Let me give you two situations. One, I turn savage. That link, and that planning, is all gone. At worst, they discover our operations before we are ready to reveal ourselves, and being prey they do what prey do best and panic. They panic and destroy all we’ve strived to create!”

“And two?” Kozlov asked, suddenly seeming a lot calmer.

“You attack or hurt me, thinking that you have more power than I do. I am quite popular back there, and they won’t take the news very well. I wouldn’t like to be your…”

“Enough!” the crime lord growled, but it was a defeated growl more than anything. A growl that was almost spat on the ground by a normally fearsome mammal, who happened to be in the presence of a mammal who he had willingly given power over him too. A mammal who he could have been more honest too. A mammal who was right, compared to him who was wrong. A mammal he had to make amends to.

“Two good mammals, dear friends of me, they went savage…”

“I see,” Nick replied, nodding his head as Kozlov spoke.

“And guard, he report seeing same mammal in same place for both. Strange smelling wolf, with Scottish accent, called Frasier Maim…”

“I’m listening…”

“I think he is linked to this. I should have told you sooner.”

“Much sooner,” Nick replied, taking time to think over things. “I think we need to organise a, shall we say, safety arrangement?”

The polar bear nodded sullenly, to which Nick smiled. “Da,” the Ursine said, “I shall call in best men, and we agree something. Hopefully to avenge best man!”

“Glad to see we are both on the same track again, Kozlov,” Nick replied, before pausing for a second. “How long will it take them to get here.”

“One hour… Two hour…”

“Do you have a shower somewhere nearby?” Nick enquired, before looking down and gesturing as his filth covered clothes and tail.

“Da,” Kozlov said. “And spare change of clothes.”

“In that case, see you soon,” Nick replied, at which point he doffed his cap, nodded in agreement and silently left the office, the heavy wooden door clunking shut behind him.

Only to then dart back in from the door, grab a couple of surviving sushi rolls, and dart back out again.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31:**

**.**

**August, 2002**

.

“Better luck next time!”

“Ah shut up Paps,” I shouted back as I reeled in my empty line, the hook on the end still carrying a fleck or two of the mealworm bait that had been robbed from it. Finally picking the cold hook of metal in my paws, I turned back to the tackle bag and pulled out another one. Bringing the hook up, I tried to skewer the wiggling target but missed, merely glancing it. Scowling, I went back for a second attempt only to…

“OW!”

Skewer one of my Pads instead. Bringing it up to my mouth, I began sucking it clean as Dad came over to do the work for me. I couldn’t help but scowl, seeing as I was a full-grown Fox who could easily do that. Heck, I’d done it hundreds of times before! But despite my silent protests, he did it for me and even retrieved a small strip of fabric, usually reserved for wrapping up the fish we caught, so I could stem the blood flow.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I took it, wrapping it around my finger and tying it so that it didn’t fall off. I then picked up my rod, walked back to the edge of the small cliff and cast it off, watching it fall into the foaming water beneath.

Checking that the float was stuck out in the open, rather than getting pushed back to shore, I slotted the rod into one of the waiting mounts and sat back into my deck chair. There was a warm summer wind coming in off the sea, ruffling through my short fur coat and shirt, while the warm glow of the sun was shining down on us from up above. All in all, it was a great day to go out and relax at what had become one of the most popular fishing spots for those in the town.

I’d also never been here with Lynn, so there were no painful memories…

_But she’d eventually have discovered it, wouldn’t she?_

I scowled, silently cursing myself for bringing her up again. I’d tried to forget what had happened to her, but instead I’d ended up just opening a new door of grief in my mind, letting my imagination have a go at hurting me instead of my memory.

_She’d then beg and beg and beg to come with us. Talking about how she’d catch the biggest fish ever and…_

_NO….!_

I gritted my teeth shut and emptied my lungs out, before taking a deep breath in again. In, out, in, out… I concentrated on it, focussing my mind on the action to try and rid the painful thoughts of any space to enter.

.

Breathe in…

.

Breathe out…

.

Breathe in…

.

Breathe out…

.

Breathe in…

.

Breathe…

“Nick, you okay?”

My ears pricked with the sound and I opened my eyes, before wincing at the harsh stab of the bright sun. Turning to Dad, I just smiled and gave a quick shrug. “Just passing the time, you know,” I replied, “waiting to finally get a decent catch.”

Dad just nodded silently, before leaning down to grab a big clay jug full of beer. Taking the cork stop out with a loud _Pung,_ he took a deep swig of the amber ale inside before wiping off the foam moustache from the top of his muzzle and putting the cork back in. I watch him place the jug back down by his rod and thought about having some too, before deciding against it. As he just settled back into his chair and closed his eyes, I did to, waiting for sleep to take me.

.

_So of course, we would pack everything up and settle down, just like we are now, and we’d all fish for a short period until she got bored, and then begin wandering off to do things and such._

.

I sighed as Lynn came back into my mind, before giving up any attempt to keep them out of there as futile. Truth be told, she’d never really left it. Despite all the new excitement in the one and a half months since that day, I could tell that Mum was still far from back to herself, and I wasn’t either. Sure, I could push the grief out and away for periods to time, even banish it for a while if I had a big enough distraction. But like a rising tide it would eventually come back and fill in the holes I’d emptied out. It wasn’t a wailing depression or anything, just…

Just…

Just this feeling that there was always something missing, something special. That all of this wasn’t a whole and that there was a key somewhere to unlock it all. But that key, as we all knew, had died and been cremated, her ashes now in the ground and wrapped around the roots of Foxglove flowers. It seemed fitting, that the plant that held the sun’s hunger and flames away from the nameless Fox now protecting her from the sun’s glare and the rains pull. But it wasn’t her, was it? Just the dust and ash that used to be her. All her happiness and joy and love and energy wasn’t in there, nor was it in us. I could only hope that it was still somewhere, anywhere, and just hadn’t been snuffed out of existence.

I sighed as I repeated the sad thought that had still lingered in me all these past months, despite all the joy, excitement and fear that they’d brought me.

“My sister is gone…”

It was little more than a whisper, but it was enough. After a second or so I heard the sound of a chair creaking and paws on the ground, before I felt one touch my shoulder and rub it.

“How are you coping, Son?”

…

“Son?”

“Fine, Dad,” I grunted, before turning myself over in my chair to face away from him. “Just… just had a thought about Lynn again, and…”

“We all know it isn’t that, don’t we?”

…

“Please, tell me. How are you coping?”

As he spoke, I sat up in my chair, my muzzle resting in my paws, and just thought and thought. I was thinking of Lynn again, remembering how I’d played with her back when she was a little toddler, racing around on all four paws. I’d thrown out a scrap of old fabric and Mum, Dad and I took turns wiggling our hands under it or moving it about. Lynn, her curious eyes going wide with excitement as she saw the flutter, would then bounce over to it and pounce head first into it. Instinct telling her that it was snow, she’d scrabble and paw, trying to dig her way down before she paused as she found that it wasn’t working. Stepping back a bit and letting her head tilt to the side, she’d ponder the mystery for a bit until someone moved and fluttered their hand again, and she’d pounce forward once more. It was just one of the many games we’d played with her back then, and I couldn’t tell why that memory in particular came up. Whatever reason it had had to appear, it wasn’t going anytime soon and instead just stood there, replaying through my mind as Dad waited for my reply. It was more comfortable than thinking about the real thing that was stressing me out.

 “Son…”

Sometimes it had been too tempting a target, and I’d pounced at Mum or Dad’s paw too. I’d always play it off as ‘showing her how it’s done’ to avoid embarrassment, not that it helped. Other times, my paws had lunged in on Lynn herself and begun a merciless tickling session. She’d squealed and giggled and meekly clawed at my hand, even trying to bite it too. It always hurt a little, but I could feel that she was holding back. Just playing. That pain had been worth it, for all the fun.

“You know I was terrified like you.”

My ears pricked at the sound and I turned back over to face Dad, who was sitting down on the side of the deck chair. He smiled and leant over, his arm out and hugging me tight and I leant back to hug him too. Damn, here I was a nineteen-year-old Tod still accepting a hug from my old man. I couldn’t lie though, it felt good. Knowing that I had a friend in all of this.

“I see that smile Slick,” he said, his own one growing as our eyes met. I looked away, chuckling slightly. He chuckled back, before speaking out.

“I was scared at first, terrified even, when Mum was having you. I’m sure you know the story of how you were born, how we never wanted you in the first place knowing what you’d go through. Even without that, I’d be scatting bricks out left, right and centre coming up to your due date if it were possible. It was like being tied down to some railway tracks which are shaking as this big, big express train off in the mist, out there somewhere where you can’t see it, races towards you. You know it’s going to hit you, you just don’t know when. That is of course until labour starts and the lights suddenly appear, and then…”

“WHAM!” I shouted, pounding my paws together as I did so.

“Wham indeed,” he laughed back, before taking in a big breath and carrying on. “I know what happened to Lynn hit you hard. It hit of all of us hard.”

“I know,” I said back, not liking the new direction that this story was going in. I turned back to my rod, somehow wishing that I’d get a bite and we’d be distracted. Nothing was forthcoming however, and Dad carried on.

“I… I miss her too,” he said, stuttering somewhat as I heard the grief tinge his voice. “Just like you I miss her every day. My… my little Vixen… But thinking back at her life, it was worth it. Despite all the pain at the end… Well, all that pain is only there because of the happiness before that.”

“To summarise, it’s better to of loved and lost than to have never loved at all,” I snarked back, only to feel guilty as I saw Dad pull back slightly.

“Well, yes!” he replied. “I’ve gone… No, we’ve gone through the worst loss imaginable, but can you honestly say that you wished Lynn Wilde never existed. No memory. Nothing at all?”

.

_‘Did I…?’_

_._

“No,” I admitted.

.

.

“I thought so,” he said, smiling as he did so. “And you, my Son, are going to love those little Kits of yours and Hester’s. Trust me on this, you will.”

“I trust you,” I replied. “Doesn’t mean that I’m not scared about what happens when B-day comes around if you know what I mean? Especially seeing as she’s coming up to two weeks overdue!”

“I know,” he replied. “You know how they dealt with childbirth with the collars on?”

I paused, thinking about that. Labour was called that for a reason, and given all the fear and pain in equal measure, it must have been a recipe for a shocking from hell. Even the Prey mammals couldn’t be heartless enough to let Preds ride through the shocks during that though, could they?

“How?” I asked.

“Simple, when your pregnancy was confirmed and your due date given, they’d replace your collar with a special pregnancy version. That way, if you had five seconds of shocks or more, it would disable them and call the authorities, the mechanism staying off as long as you didn’t move too far.”

“So, then the authorities would come, take it off and take you to hospital?”

Dad shrugged, before looking away. “Well, ideally you’d go in a good way before your due-date, and get handcuffed to the posts in return for getting your collar off.”

“Suppose that’s better than the alternatives,” I replied, before pausing as I noticed how Dad was looking at the ground, his feet fussing the soil about as he thought.

“You know, I had nightmares. Nightmares about how it’d start well before her due date, and her collar wouldn’t work, and she and you would die screaming on the floor in agony. How I’d be left alone with nothing. Or…”

“At least you had good quality medics and equipment, didn’t you?” I replied back. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to be aggressive or funny, but he seemed to take it seriously.

“I’ll give you that. While it’s often been done before, especially for the Hyena’s, it’s not like we’re _properly_ qualified to do an emergency C-section here, are we?”

“Yep,” I replied. “We’ve got some self-taught medic-pharmacists, some big forceps, some scalpels and surgical thread and not a whole lot else.”

“But you don’t have a collar to hurt you for your fears, do you?”

I pulled back at that, angry at him for thinking that I was worried about myself in this. I wasn’t, it was Hester and the Kits inside of her that mattered. Nothing else. “Well you didn’t have to worry about how many Kits were coming out of Mum, did you?! You realise that Litters run in Hester’s family? That she was part of a group of four! That…”

“We knew nothing about Mum’s family too!” Dad interrupted, “When the pregnancy test came back positive, for all we knew she could have been in line to produce a mega-litter!”

“Well at least you had a chance to check! I mean, I can definitely hear more than one heartbeat in there. But it could be two. It could be… I mean what even is that max?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug, before giving me _that_ grin. “But from the way you made the bones of the mountains shake back when you and her made love, I’m certain that you’re in for at least ten or…”

“TEN!!!” I screamed out, jumping up as the horrific thought entered my mind, only to be pushed out by a far more horrific realisation. I turned towards Dad, my jaw practically hitting the floor, as the conversation played back through my mind, all but confirming what I feared.

“You… you heard?”

He just stood there, wiggling his eyebrows up and down in the most infuriating way possible before speaking. “With the racket you two made, who didn’t?”

.

I felt sick…

Literally sick, with a small taste of bile rising up from my stomach. I stood up and turned away, my feet working overtime to get me away from here and into a quiet, secluded spot where I could do something appropriate.

.

Maybe mince myself?

.

Mincing myself sounded good.

.

“Hey! Come on Slick!”

.

I ignored him and carried on, entering the deep woods even though I heard the crumpling of leaf litter under his paws behind me. “I mean, we’ve been polite enough to not…”

“JUST SHUT UP!” I shouted, turning on the spot and finding him right behind me, close enough so that our noses brushed each other’s before I backed off, putting in a respectable distance between us. “I… I mean you’re telling me here that everyone heard my, no, OUR most intimate, private, important memory! That every Pred and his Uncle heard me and Hess making out up there six times! I…” I paused to catch my breath, panting from the fury only to pause as I saw my Dad’s eyes, opened wide like dinnerplates. I turned the other way, only to see nothing, before turning back to face him. He’d managed to weakly raise one of his fingers, but in a fraction of the time I’d got my fists on my hips and a mean scowl on my face. “WHAT!?”

.

.

“Six times….”

“Well Yes! Six times, I mean you surely heard it all, and it’s not as if you… you…”

For something that should have filled me with utter relief in retrospect, I felt nothing but humiliation as I stood there, the cogs in my mind whirring away as they worked out the one, simple truth…

“You were joking back there… weren’t you?”

He silently nodded, before his entire face winced up. I could tell that he was trying so hard for my sake to keep it in, but the laugh still escaped his muzzle, coming out in a drawn out snickering raspberry. I could do nothing but roll my eyes and grab him, leading my Paps’ all the way back to the fishing lines. Nothing had changed in our absence, so we just sat down on the chairs and kicked back, ready to get some shut-eye.

I drifted off…

And I dreamed….

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

A clearing in the woods, and two silver rings smelted from ore Ben had found over on the western island. Good old Khalid Ibn-Zerdain, standing on a rather tall box, had volunteered to run the (thankfully secular) ceremony. I stood there, waiting and waiting… until she came.

.

.

“Nicholas Piberius Wilde, do you take this Vixen as your wife?”

It was a warm July day, the clearing in the wood covered in a thick carpet of thick green grass and ferns, interspersed with a rainbow of small wildflowers. To my side stood a red Fox, her stomach already bulging out from the kits growing inside. Her white dress was simple with not that much frill or lace attached to it, one of the very small prices we paid for living out here. I’d promised her and kept it, keeping my nose out of the boxes in the store-front that had held it and its materials, despite the constant curiosity.

It was supposed to be bad luck to see it…

And I didn’t want anything, however possible or improbable, to dare try and mess this up.

“I do,” I said.

.

.

“Hester Anna Vulpes, do you take this Todd as your husband?”

I looked on her now, into her eyes.

A fear that had no reason under the sun to be there coursed through me, making the moment stretch out into an eternity…

“I do.”

“You may now…”

.

Hester didn’t even give him a chance to finish that, lunging forward to grab me, our muzzles opening to lock together and our tongues interlacing…

.

The dream vanished into a white bliss after that, only coming out of it as I came to at the most terrifying moment of any newlywed husband. We were in one of the town hall barns, the building crowded out with friends and family from both sides as Hester’s father, a heavily built but almost pink coloured Tod, rose to speak.

“Now, you may all be expecting me to propose a roast to the newest member of my family, Mr Nicholas Piberius Vulpes!”

The crowd roared back, thumping their feet and banging the table in eager anticipation, and with dread I looked on at his terrifying sly grin.

“But, while I could be angry at that sly old Dog for getting my girl up the duff… and off her feet for a week! I’ll hand it to him, he’s an absolute gentleman! I’m not just saying that because his father is the mayor of this town and I want to curry favour, or not get evicted…”

“Your secret’s safe with me!” my own Dad called from his chair, before his eyes went wide and one of his paws shot up to the end of his muzzle to silence himself. Everyone could tell that it was some of the hammiest acting in the book, but it sent the entire crowd of already raucous mammals into a fit of hysterics anyway. Mr Vulpes… the oldest Mr Vulpes that was, given that I was one too now, waited for it to die down to the usual level of giggles before carrying on.

“Rather, I’m saying it because I know my new Son well… we all do. And I also know that the real person deserving any kind of roasting tonight is my Daughter, who’s an absolute Minx that deserves EVERYTHING I’m about to say!”

I turned to face her, failing to supress a snicker as I saw the shell-shocked expression on her face.

“Let’s start with the first moment her personality become evident to us, shall we!” he cried out, and suddenly her muzzle was trembling and her head shaking from side to side, dreading what was coming next. Mr Vulpes paid it no mind. “Now, potty training four kits is always going to be a hard affair….”

I managed to wrap my arm around her as the dream skipped forward again, sadly missing the funniest fifteen minutes of my life.

.

.

“NICHOLAS PIBERIUS VULPES!”

“That isn’t my… Oh wait, yes it is!” I replied as I opened the door and waved her in to our new room. Our family had saved up quite a bit of money and, ever since the hasty engagement, it had been put to use in building a new home for us. Being one of the original homes in the village, my parents’ house had a large back garden that was rarely ever used, what with the big parks and allotments we had. Wanting to stay close but separate, and time being quite essential, a log cabin had soon sprung up in it (given that we’d now got plenty of seasoned logs ready for use in such a fashion).

While Al had promised me that it was ready days ago, and Mum and Dad promised that my stuff was now in there, this was the first time I’d seen it.

I was ecstatic!

They’d got everything perfect!

.

Hester, not so much…

.

“I did warn you Hess,” I said as I stripped off my clothes, “You’re getting the whole Nick package or nothing.”

“But… But…” she stammered in response, still too frustrated to speak coherently.

“Ah come on, what’s the matter?”

She scowled before pointing with revulsion at the centrepiece of our master bedroom. “THAT IS THE MATTER!”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Don’t be some melodramatic!”

“It’s called a wedding BED for a reason!” she cried. I paid her no mind, bending over to take off my boxers, my ears folding down as she continued. “NOT A WEDDING BASKET!”

I turned to look at it, a fine new double sized wicker basket. The weaved wood had been varnished to gleaming perfection while multiple thick pillows lay at its base, all stuffed until plump and comfy with the fluff collected from the cattails which grew along the river. On top of it all, lay thick blankets and even two heart shaped throw pillows. Dad had certainly done his homework, and I could spend hours looking at the fine specimen.

“You seriously can’t sleep in anything else?”

I scowled as I turned to face the only finer specimen in the room, who had stripped off her clothes and stood there in all her glory. Her silver-white fur, which covered her neck all of her back, was still long and graceful and flowed as she moved, unlike the red on her chest, tail and limbs which had moulted into a short summer coat…

“Never could Hess,” I said with a shrug.

She sighed, her amber eyes rolling around, before she grabbed the underside of my muzzle with her paws and pulled me forward. Her silver-white fur surrounded her face like a lion’s mane, but the edges of her ears and the mask of her face were all in the classic fox colours. With a devious look, she grasped one of her long graceful whiskers and twiddled it, knowing full well how hot it made me.

“I’m just gonna have to wear you out so much you’ll fall asleep anyway. That’ll prove you wrong you overgrown baby!” She said, before pushing me back with a bit too much force. My back hit the wall and I slipped down, landing painfully on my tail and grunting.

“You Okay?” She asked, her eyes suddenly wide with worry as she looked over at me.

I smiled and gave her a thumbs-up, though I couldn’t help but groan as I rose. “Fine, fine,” I replied, “and I like your strategy, I really do! Just one problem, we need a bed for it to work.”

“I’ll get one tomorrow,” she said, deadpan in her response.

“Fine…” I said, before I had a devious idea. “You know, this still means that you have to spend one night in a basket. Maybe I can try your strategy on you! Make it so that you fall asleep before you have a chance to complain. Or, better yet, show you the great advantages a basket has!”

“Hah!” she cried, before pouncing into the giant basket and waving me over.

“I’m gonna make it so you can’t catch a wink of sleep in this stupid basket!” she teased, her eyebrows going up and down furiously.

I chuckled, replying with a sarcastic “Yiff!” before I lunged forwards…

.

.

Blackness.

.

.

Once more, the dream had robbed me of the good bits…

.

Oh hang on, there’s shaking…

.

Port to Starboard rather than bow to stern though..

.

Do I care?

.

_“Nick…”_

.

Was someone…

.

_“NICK!”_

My eyes opened and I was back on the beach, my Dad and Ben looking over at me. The cheetah looked exhausted, he was panting and shaking, but before I could ask me what is wrong he told me.

“It’s Started!”

.

.

.

.

I’d never ran faster in my life. My legs worked in overdrive to keep me going forwards and forwards, towards her.

No, towards them…

I knew they needed me. I knew I couldn’t miss this.

The thoughts about what would happen if something went wrong, and if I missed their deaths or something, never entered my mind. Instead I just leant further forwards and ignored the burning that spread through my body to get home.

Following the path, weaving over rough stones and gravel, passing through branches that whipped at me or tried to take out my eyes, I finally peaked the final hill and set my eyes on the town beyond, sprawling out across the flat rock plateau. I didn’t have time to take in the view, instead I just carried on and on as my paws left the mud and rock and planted themselves on road. The river to the left of me, I saw one of Honey’s trams just reaching the end of the line and immediately felt glad that she was a mad, crazy, speed freak.

“STOP THE TRAM” I cried, somehow finding more air in my lungs to call out, and garnering the weasel driver’s attention.

I didn’t recognise him.

He didn’t recognise me.

I still jumped into his cabin, scaring the living daylights out of him, before pausing as I waited for him to do something.

.

….

.

“MY WIFE IS IN LABOUR! MOVE!”

Shaken from his shock, the small mustelid dove to the controls and opened the throttle. The whole train shook as it curved around the track and set itself dead in line for the centre of town, before the driver opened it up and we shot forward.

As I held on for dear life, catching my breath as much I could, the driver was tooting his horn as madly as possible as we charged down the line. Most mammals saw us and quickly got out of the way, while the confused or mad looks of those that were waiting for the down train were quickly forgotten. The whole thing, originally designed to spend its life trundling about in an Elephants garden, almost rattled and shook itself apart as we approached the centre of town in what must have been little more than a couple of minutes.

“OK, stop there!” I said, before grimacing down as the squealing of the brakes rang out. To say it was like claws on a blackboard was a gross understatement. The horrific sound chilled me to the bone, making it the only thing to distract me from the thought of Hester going into labour since I’d received the news. We’d gone well past the closest street to my place, but I didn’t care. Instead, I leapt out when I thought it was safe enough and hit the ground hard, rolling over myself multiple times until I ground to a halt. My paws out to steady me, I looked up and charged at full tilt.

Down along the shopping arcade.

Up towards my parents’ shop, before I burst through the door.

Her scent was weak, but it was there.

I ran though, passing the work surfaces and going through the lounge.

It was getting stronger

Out into the garden and over the new wall, before I tore open the front door of my house.

It hit me, overwhelming me, driving me crazy…

.

Aid…

.

Protect…

.

Defend…

.

There were more, too, that did that same…

.

They were new…

.

Even stronger than Hess’s…

.

Far more powerful….

.

“Nick…”

I heard the cry from upstairs, before I bolted up the stairs, shouting out as I did so to.

“HESS!”

The smell was everything now, as I charged along the mezzanine balcony that went from end to end of the house.

Cursing that our master room was at the far side.

Mum was waiting there outside, looking exhausted and tired, but smiling…

Her paws were held together as if she were praying.

I went past her.

I went in…

.

I stopped as I saw them in front of me. I was truly lost for words, only to give a little _‘ee_ k’ before bursting into tears.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

“Come here, come here you,” I gently whispered, taking the time to delicately pick up the little ball of mewling black fluff from Hester’s chest. A little pinch between my fingers, and I had her… yes, it was a her, by the scuff. Pulling her over and glancing at the adorable little face that poked out, I gently placed her down on my neck, making sure to cradle her tight as I rubbed the side of my cheek against her. I wasn’t just marking her, giving her the scent of her Dad (oh Mother Marian… I’m a DAD!), but also feeling her tiny little paws begin to knead softly into my fur. Her body was warm and, as she burrowed into my chest fluff and I nestled into the basket with Hess, I knew I could just lie there for an eternity with this little baby Vixen sleeping on my chest.

“I’m afraid I took the liberty of naming that one while you were away, Slick.”

I scowled as I turned to face her, lying down next to me and snuggled up deeply in the baskets pillows and blankets. Her eyes were tired from her labour, but it had gone well. She evidently had enough energy to still be her cheeky self, but had just been too busy with the two brown-furred Kits on her stomach to care. “I dread to think what you came up with, you know that?”

“Oh, he of little faith…” she teased, before her tongue rolled out and she began softly preening the larger of the pair, whose mouth just so happened to open out wide into an absolutely adorable little yawn as she did so.

.

.

“Well, come on!” I impatiently replied, backing off a bit when I saw a slightly hurt look in her eyes.

“…Skye.”

“Skye?”

“Yes, Skye,” she confirmed, nodding as she looked at the small silver Fox resting on my chest. It was a nice name for her, though it seemed to come out of the blue.

“Any reason…?”

“A story my mother told me,” she replied sadly, “A Swift Fox Vixen who served in a special unit during the last great war, out in Reptile occupied Western outback. They were doing commando raids on the work camps, getting the slaves to rebel and...

“Was she behind Wallabyoom rebellion?” I asked, thinking back to the history books I’d read in the past. I knew the story of the retaking of Western outback well. The stalemate and phoney war. Their troop build-ups and the tense standoff. How the mammalian occupants of the territory were rounded up and sent to workcamps, like the toxic mines at the terrible Wallabyoom. And how there was a rebellion there, with reports of Pred and Prey managing it and guiding the survivors to safety. The rest of the war was history…

“Uhhhh….” Was the only response Hester gave back, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. She frowned in response before speaking. “One of my Aunts said she knew a Dingo from western outback, who was in a town serving one of those camps and was saved as a child by a Fox called Skye… He said she did it to prove that Foxes could be trusted and loyal, and to help free her people. Apparently, she served on until the end of the war with this Rabbit partner and eventually died a Hero’s death in battle, putting herself in the firing line to keep her unit’s boat running… or so I heard.”

“Seeing as this is the first I’ve heard of her…” I trailed off as Hess nodded slowly, confirming what I suspected. Heck, the whole of Western outback was betrayed. They hadn’t had collars before, given how sparse it was, and had been promised that it could continue. But the liberators of the camps and towns came with trucks full of collars, and they’d stayed on ever since.

“I’ll tell this Skye about her namesake’s bravery in the future,” I said, shaking my head as I brought myself back to the present. “Make sure that she gets some of the respect that she deserved. Isn’t that right Skye…?”

As my speech trailed off into a silent question, I turned over to look at Hess, who just shrugged. A grin on my face, I looked back at her and restarted. “Isn’t that right Skye Maria Vulpes?”

“I like it, but what about this chap?” Hester asked, before she turned back to the larger Kit on her stomach. He’d been drinking, but had fallen asleep, a dribble of milk still on his chin. Hester slowly leant forward and gave him a preening lick down his spine, making me smile as I saw his tiny winy little white tipped tail wag excitedly back and forth.

“So, we’re not an all Vixen litter I see…”

“No, but this little Tod better get used to the girly stuff,” she replied, giving a glance over to the third Kit. “It also means that he’s that only one burdened with your family’s male middle name.”

“Piberius ain’t that bad,” I indignantly responded, somewhat insulted by the slant. While Fox family names were matrilineal, the males would also pass down an inherited middle name. My Dad, his father, his father and so on all had Piberius as their middle name, as did I and so did my son.

“Well,” Hess spoke slyly, “seeing as you’ve already given him his middle name, I think I get...”

“Hey! That’s unfair Hess.”

“Oscar!”

“… Oscar?” I asked, after blinking a few times.

“Yup,” she replied, nodding before looking down at the boy. “Oscar Piberius Vulpes.”

I paused, thinking about it, rolling the name over in my head and pondering about how it sounded, before coming to my decision. “Fine, as long as you let me fully name our last one.”

“Fine by me,” she replied, as she leant over and gently picked up the final Kit, pinching her scruff. Handing her over, I cradled her in my paw and just looked at the tiny little thing. She was far smaller than the rest, definitely the runt of the litter.

My little runt…

Of my litter…

I shook my head, still hardly able to believe this, before turning to the matter at hand. I cradled the unnamed Kit, along with Skye, up next to me. I paused as I breathed in their scent, an impossibly sweet musk that seemed to mellow every part of my body. Gently leaning forward, I gave her a playful lick on her tiny, tiny pink nose before pulling back and smiling as I watched her squirm, mewling slightly as her paws came out and batted the air in front of her. Her mouth opened, and a tiny, tiny little sneeze, sounding like a cute little ‘cass…’ came out before she snuggled down into my fur and went to sleep, warm and safe in the depths of my musky coat.

But a name…

A name…

I paused as I thought, trying to think back at any hints. I replayed what she’d done so far in her short life through my mind, knowing full what that she was cute but finding nothing else to go on…

Well, one thing but that was silly.

Or was it…?

_Cass…_

Cass…

Cassiopeia?

No…

Cassandra?

.

Yes…

“Cassandra…” I whispered gently, before going down to gently kiss her on the head.

“Cassandra?”

“Yes, Cassandra…” I replied, before turning back to the matter at hand. “Cassandra… Cassandra…”

“Want a hand?”

“No,” I whispered, taking my time to look over at Hess and scold her. Even though they were heavy and lidded, she still took the time to roll her eyes before turning forward to boop Oscar’s nose with her own. “I’ll come up with a good middle name Hess, don’t you worry. A good one, an important one, one filled with love and care.”

“I trust you slick,” she softly replied, her voice tired and weak. “Just don’t take all day.”

“I won’t,” I reassured her, before turning back to my little Cass. Truth be told, I had an idea for what her middle name might be, but I was scared to say it.

“She’s not going to bite you if you say a dud first time, you know that, don’t you?”

“Not helping Hess…” I moaned. I closed my eyes and began taking my deep breaths to steady myself, only to pause as I felt a soft paw gently cradle the back of my head.

“It’s Lynn? Isn’t it?”

I pulled back in surprise, glancing over at Hester before looking back at Cass. I closed my eyes, breathed in one last time and spoke.

“Cassandra… Lynn… Vulpes.”

I cradled Cass and Skye in tightly against my fur, rubbing my chin against them and letting a tear escape from my eye. It had been a terrifying few hours, and I was exhausted. I could scarcely guess how tired and worn Hester, who’d already fallen to sleep with Oscar in her arms, felt. Outside, Mum and Dad, and Hester’s parents and family, and all my friends were waiting. Waiting to congratulate us, to help us prepare the Kits. The quote a famous Otter… Or was it a Weasel? There were some parts you really wanted to shave, which would get done in due course. There would also be measuring them up for proper clothes, and having Chloe check over them.

But for now, all I wanted to do was to cosy up with my Wife and Kits in our basket and sleep together.

Dad was right earlier.

Despite all the fears and worry.

This was a thousand times more worth it than I could have ever imagined.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32:**

.

Two days had passed since Nick had met with Kozlov and learnt the truth about the savage attacks. After that, work had been done fast and arrangements made, all ready for the event that he was targeted and became a victim himself. Stationed now in one of the number of old warehouses that was used on and off for docking the boat out to the islands, the lone Vulpine was hard at work. Up from before the crack of dawn, he busied himself with the computer in front of him. Logging on and opening up various pages and programs as he tried to get everything up and going.

It had been just over a dozen years or so since they’d smuggled across a satellite internet device, originally designed to give those working on cargo ships TV and program access. It had given them access too, along with their first proper way of communicating with those back in the city.

From past experience, however, Nick knew that these things could be temperamental. Very, very temperamental and so he waited and waited as the web-cam program flickered on and off, a haze on meaningless static.

“Come on… Come on!”

The muzzle-time screen just gave a particularly loud fizzle, causing Nick to pull himself back in semi-shock. Scowling, his eyes pulling back out of annoyance, he balled his fist and gave the computer tower a good whack, before turning and walking away, huffing in frustration and mumbling curses under his breath.

“Stupidgoodfornuffin’ piece of gelding trash and…”

“Daddy!”

Nick’s back bolted upright in an instant and he turned to look at the screen. His eyes widened as they saw the outline of a silver Vixen, thirteen years old with her father’s verdant green eyes looking back at him.

“Skye?”

“DADDY!”

“SKYE!” Nick shouted in joy as he turned and raced towards the computer. Grabbing hold of the office chair and yanking it back, he leapt onto it and let it spin around and around. His eyes wide open with joy and his arms held out, he let the chair spin to a stop, before dropping his foot down and moving himself around so that it was the front of his face, rather than the back, that actually met the screen and webcam.

His eyes met those on the screen, green against green as Nick’s daughter turned around and called over the rest of his family. As Skye pulled back, the silhouette of three other foxes came into the frame. The tallest of course was his dear Hess, and then came Oscar and Cass too, all shuffling up against each other in the frame as they waved to their father across the sea.

“I’m missing you, you know,” Nick said, struggling to hold back a tear as he saw his loved ones once more. It was true, that he’d missed them. Ever since he’d caught the boat over in early march, he’d missed their voices and their touch. The way they squabbled and played and comforted him and each other throughout the day. Their smell, their familiar smell that made him strong and made him feel like a father, ready to defend them with his life, was absent too. Sure, the odd video conversation had helped stave off the loneliness and homesickness, but he couldn’t go up and hug a computer tight now, could he?

“Me too!” Oscar, his only son, piped in before his head was smushed to the side.

“Me MORE!” cried Cass, the little runt of Hess’ litter added, still sounding like she was six even though she was over half that age.

Not wanting to be moved out of the picture, Oscar looked back with an angry stare and pushed back, before being pushed far in the other direction by Cass, a crazy grin on her face. Before Nick could give a snide remark about how the little girl was the meanest, strongest Fox he knew, Oscar had been bumped into Skye, who then pulled him to the side and whacked Cass hard between the ears with a curled fist, causing her to belt out a loud YIP!

“Can we swap next time?”

The sound of Hess’ pulled Nick and his concerned gaze away from the three battling Kits… no, they were teenagers now, not Kits… and up to the tired, sassy gaze of his Wife.

“What, you do the international terrorism and I do the parenting?”

Hester gave a few short, fast nods before shrugging as she looked down at the three battling Foxes in her lap and then back at the one on the screen. “To be honest, it seems like the easier option…”

And with that, she raised her palms up and brought them down, catching Skye’s head on the left of the screen, Cass’s head on the right, and pushing them inwards so they slammed into Oscar’s, making a sound like a pair of billiard balls hitting each other. Oscar seemed completely out of it, bending down and groaning as he brought his paws up to both sides of his head, massaging his brand-new headache. The two sisters, however, still had a glint of a fight in their eyes. It was promptly banished as their mother, still possessing half lidded eyes of annoyance, repeated the manoeuvre and brought their heads together.

Nick couldn’t help but chuckle as he saw all three of his kids groan in pain and rub their temples, all while their mother looked from above and shook her head, tutting all the way.

“I thought they were supposed to be thirteen,” Nick sarcastically groaned, his face cracking as he spotted the amused grin of Hester’s muzzle.

“I know, I know,” she sighed, before weaving her fingers together and resting her elbows on the table in front of her. Her snout resting on the top of her fingers, she gazed longingly forwards, before fluttering her eyebrows coyly, sending Nick’s heartbeat racing.

Boy…

He missed her…

After all these years, and after raising three kits, often alone for months on end, she was still the cheeky bundle of fluff he’d fallen in love with. She could still be sly, and a bit rude here and there, but they always had fun together. Both family fun, and ‘funner’ fun…

Then there were the stories they’d tell each other. It had gotten far funnier after she started spending time at the town school, helping to teach and then becoming a teacher herself. It wasn’t so much that she had difficulty teaching, quite the opposite in fact.

Although sometimes she could, as was her way, go a bit too far and send a child or two running home crying.

Those made for the best stories.

Nick’s favourite was always the one where she’d found out that two large litters in her class shared the same birthday. Oh, she’d promised and overpromised how great she’d make it, and only realised her mistake the night before. She still tried to deliver, spending the entire night decorating the classroom and baking the brownies, biscuits and pies that were eaten on those days, given how expensive eggs and thus cakes were. And bless those kids, they were still happy with what she’d done, even though they had been expecting far more.

Except for one tiger cub… who’d been the thorn in the classroom side the whole year. Bickering and complaining and, on occasions, out-right bullying. He held her to account on everything and anything on that day, until he went too far. Way too far.

He’d criticised her rendition of happy birthday as out of tune and, on this occasion, Hess had no wish to let it go. Before he knew it, the tiger cub was standing on her desk with the lyrics to Chameleon Rhapsody of all things in his paws.

And then the fun began.

Thirty renditions later, and he’d left the school bursting in tears, the rest of the class laughing out loud, Hess most of all.

She didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty, even after she’d been made to grumble a small apology to the cub’s parents, and had proceeded to go around town, digging through all the records, tapes and CD’s she could lay her paws on to find the ultimate hard-to-sing song. She’d consulted near on everyone in town, bar the parents of said child, and had come out of it with a terrifying mix of heartfelt opera solo’s; bizarre psychedelia; some soul; plenty of female musicians warbling at ear piercingly high pitches about love or rainbows or something; a song about a gentleman forgetting to be consistent in which parts of a car was stealing from the factory he worked at (with tongue-twisting results when he tried to put it together) and someone singing with a gentle Scottish accent, doing something that could almost theoretically be classed as rapping, about some Dodo.

Of course, there could only be one ultimate tongue twister song, and in hindsight the choice was obvious. Less than one and a half minutes long, but with over one-hundred unique and oft bizarre lyrics spat out at what could only be described as a pace that not even Zootopia’s best rapper, or even a bunny on his wedding night, could keep up with.

And of course, Nick had been the first test subject.

He’d sung so valiantly, making it to the ended fifth line until he failed.

Defeated by Vanadium of all things.

Then again, Hess had flopped up all the way back at Selenium, so the joke had been on both of them.

Currently, she’d play just one of those songs to the children at the start of each term, along with her warning, and suffice to say her singing was never criticised ever again.

.

While her personality was certainly a star attraction, burning equally bright were her looks.

Oh… her looks…

The way the white mane around her face, billowing out in ghostly greys and streaks of white or silver that reached down before hiding under her favourite orange blouse, would quite simply never get old. Her face, framed by her discoloured fur, could have come straight from the most expensive comfort-vixen’s magazine in the city. It was quite simply perfect, still lithe, narrow and with the prettiest little upturn and cutest, tiniest nose biologically possible. Her whiskers, thin and bowed as they grew out untrimmed, were but the icing on the top.

It quite simply drove Nick crazy.

Out here, so far away from her, missing her scent…

 _Two weeks and I’ll be back,_ he reminded himself.

.

Nick could just stand there gazing into her eyes forever, lusting after her, until the shaking of the six ears beneath her drew him down to his kits. Giggling and looking at each other they paused for a bit, little Cass whispering something while swinging her finger to a beat, before all three turned to face him and, along with Hess, shouted out the reason he was calling on this day in particular.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!”

Nick’s grin widened with joy as he looked back, before shouting back his own message.

“THANKS GUYS!”

The three kits and Hester descended into giggles as their father’s head tilted to the side, his eyes glossing over slightly. He’d be lying if he said that the reason a finger went up to wipe one of his eyes was because of some stray dust. His giant grin falling down into a longing smile, he leant in to give the webcam a gentle peck, the closest to the real thing he could get out here.

Then Cass went one step further and full on licked the camera on her end, her cheeky gestured causing her siblings to burst into a fit of giggles. Nick joined in too, giggling and laughing at his crazy little girl’s antics, before going full hog and bringing up his fingers. Extending his claws and hooking them into the corner of his mouth, he pulled and twisted it out all while making silly gestures with his eyes…

His long tongue adding to the effect, he soon had Cass in full out laughter, her dark maroon paw banging hard on the table as she struggled to contain herself.

“I’m gonna miss that, you know,” Nick finally said, ending his performance and just spending the time to savour Cass’ antics. Her ears pricked up at what she said and she looked forward, her head tilting to the side and ears flopping about above her, as she pondered what she’d just heard.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Nick replied, the palm of his paw waving up.

“I know that look Dad…”

“Fine,” he muttered, his eyes rolling as he said it. “You’re thirteen, right?”

“Yes…”

“Which means you’re a teenager?”

“Yes…”

“You don’t act like a teenager, do you?”

Her brow furrowed at the remark, and she leant forward. “Who says I’m gonna be a moody teenager!?”

“Fluff, you’re doomed to get grumpy teenageritus sooner rather than later!”

Her ears dropped down at the statement, before she shook her head clear of thoughts and leant forwards, filling up the entire camera view.

“GRRRRRR……”

She growled. Not a mock growl or anything, but a real back of the throat, bottom of the lungs spine chilling growl. Nick merely raised an eyebrow as he watched her, seeing the sound ripple along her lips, uncovering her teeth slightly although nowhere near a full blow baring.

.

“Is it my turn now?”

Cass paused and pulled back as Nick leant into the full view of the camera, taking in a deep breath as he did so, before letting out his loudest, most menacing growl possible.

“GRRRRRR!!!!!!!”

He looked on as her amber eyes widened and she pulled back, before she jumped back in, every hair on her body raised up as much as it would go, and matching her Dad back.

“GRRRRRRRR….”

It wasn’t as loud, and Nick silently acknowledged that as it washed over him from the speakers, before Cass too realised it. Her eyes widening, she scowled before meekly shuffling back, revealing Hess and the two other, far more patient, kits once more. Smiling, Nick let his gaze move over to them and he couldn’t resist holding his hand to his heart as he took in Skye properly for the first time. His Silver Skye, her beautiful fur and green eyes enough to make every Todd in the town crazy for her, although they’d have to get past him first! While Cass was the Tomboy of the family, Skye was the girly girl who wished to be a princess when she was younger. While she’d grown out of that a long time ago, she still loved making herself look as pretty as she could and would merrily spend time with Hester cleaning and trimming their claws, or making sure her whiskers were at just the right length. While she no longer wore that cute little pink bow over her right ear, replaced with two teardrop-shaped, garnet studded silver earrings that hung from each ear, she still dressed as if going to a ball. The Wilde gene of good fashion sense definitely flowed strongly through her, and the pleated black and white zig-zag dress she wore now was evidence enough… In fact…

“Skye, is that dress new?” Nick asked, smiling as he saw her smile first.

“Yes Dad, brand new.”

“It really suits you, my little lady.”

“OH,” She scowled, the first hints of being a teenager already flowing through her veins. “I’m not a…”

“Cute little Vixen? I’m going to have to get a second opinion on that. Hess, do you agree with me that Skye is a…”

“Cute, cute, cute, pretty little bundle of fluff that I could have been pulling around by her scruff just a day or so ago?” Hester said, interrupting Nick (although from his rapid nodding, it was clear that he didn’t mind).  “Yes, yes she is!”

Skye at this point had stayed quiet, knowing that it was the only way not to lose this battle. She patiently waited for the adults to finish before clearing her throat and getting ready to speak, only for a previously silent voice to interrupt her.

“I MADE IT!”

Nick paused and looked over to Oscar, who was looking at Skye’s vest and beaming with pride. “Did you now?”

“Yes, Dad! I had some help from Grandad, but it was mostly me…!”

The older Todd smiled before shaking his head side to side. “Dear, dear me… it seems that every Fox with Piberius in his name was born to hold a needle between their pads. I mean, your sisters can’t even sew a nametag on without pricking their fingers, not that they’re even interested in that… Isn’t that right you two!”

The two little Vixens ignored their father, or at least tried to, their rolling eyes betraying their feelings. Oscar meanwhile was giggle as he looked forward, puffing his chest up as big as he could make it.

“Yup! While I’m just as good as you and Granddad, aren’t I?”

“Oh, no, no no…” Nick muttered, briefly pausing when he saw a flash of worry in his son’s eyes. He smiled and leant in, watching a grin grow on Oscar too as he picked up on something.

“I couldn’t do anything half as good as that when I was your age. You’re really going places, you know that son?”

Nick relaxed back a he saw the proudest grin he’s ever seen grow across his son’s face. The best part about it was that he wasn’t lying. Sure, he’d made some pretty dresses and such for Lynn’s third, but nothing as complex as Skye’s dress.

“Well,” Oscar said while shrugging, “I still need to work on timing.”

“Why is that?”

“It was meant for Skye’s B-day, but I finished it early and _someone_ went poking through my stuff!”

“Well,” Nick replied, shaking his head as he did so. “You can’t have everything, can you? Now talking about birthdays, what…”

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…_

Nick frowned as he turned around, setting his eyes on door to his room. His head cocked to the side as he looked at it, sure he’d just heard a faint knocking.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…_

The Vulpine frowned as he held a paw up to silence his family and stood up, marching to the door and yanking it open just as a third set of knocks began. He looked forward, at nothing, before his gaze lowered down and settled on the little water vole by his feet.

“Tattletail...”

“The one and only!” the annoying little rodent interrupted, all while pulling out a water reed and slowly nibbling on the end.

The Fox above him was less than impressed, his tail swishing furiously back and forth behind him and his collar, had it been in working condition, almost certain to have gone to red. “You know, I am trying to have a heart-warming conversation with my wife and Kids, so this better be…”

“Just a guy moping about one of the warehouses, looking for you.”

Nick snorted and growled, before turning around and grabbing the door, ready to slam it in his co-conspirators face, only for him to say something that froze the Fox in his tracks.

“This weird smelling Wolf fellow.”

.

“What was his name…?”

.

“Oh, that got your attention, didn’t it?”

The Fox frowned, his foot claws rapping impatiently on the floor as the little knee-high rodent just looked on, his facial expression smug enough to challenge the larger mammals best. “Tattletail…!”

“It was nothing important. Lupus Savage, said in this crazy accent. Now, I know you said that it was Frasier Maim who…”

Tattletail’s voice trailed off as he watched Nick race off to the computer, quickly telling those on the other line that he had to go, and to tell his own parents that he was doing fine. Logging off and storming past, he shot a worried glance at the nonchalant master thief at his feet as he exited.

“Put in place emergency plan B… I don’t want anything to go wrong!”

.

“And…?” Tattletail asked after a few seconds, calling down the corridor to Nick.

.

“If you think I’m going to fuel your annoying little ego any more, then you’re sorely mistaken,” the Fox cried back, “I didn’t even get to tell them about their new aunt!”

The little Water Vole just shook his head, finished of his reed, before scurrying off behind him.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33:**

 

The great cavernous warehouse which Nick and his allies used was dark and dusty, a claustrophobic space with a low roof whose lowest points barely raised themselves above the tallest stack of crates. Despite all the work that had taken place in here over the years, the rusting columns and beams, their once white enamel coating long since peeled off, were all covered in cobwebs so thick and dense that they look like clouds. No one bothered to clean them, seeing as they didn’t really care for the place all that much.

The roof had many windows, but half of them had been boarded up and half of the remainder so dirtied up by dust and grime on both the inside and out that they might as well have been. Those that remained had been partially scrubbed simply to allow a bit of illumination into the stocking area. It was late morning by now, and shafts of light were pouring through these surviving glass panes and spearing through the murky greyness below. It was silent, bar the patting on paws on the concrete as the silhouette of a Fox moved forward. His grey suit and red fur came into view a few times as he passed the spotlights of sunlight being cast down, before he vanished into the shadows.

On the other side of a large open area stood a patiently waiting Wolf. Unlike his smaller cousin, his grey fur was wrapped in a dark green, almost grey, trench coat that revealed only the tips of his paws. While his thick muzzle stood out, carrying the characteristic bump of his species, the rest of his head was shaded by a large fedora. It was the one thing the linked the two mammals, something that came to both of their attentions as the smaller of the pair came to a halt at the edge of a light spot, carefully scanning and sniffing his opponent while he did the same in return. The mood was quiet enough for a pin drop to be heard, until the wolf brought his paw to his mouth and coughed slightly. Bowing down and doffing his hat in a polite gesture, he extended a paw out to Nick, only for it to hang there unshaken. Scowling, he pulled it back and spoke, his accent’s exaugurated Scottish-ness only beaten by its condescendingly aloof tone.

“A good day to you, Sir…”

Once more the polite opening went unanswered as Nick just stood in position, moving his arms up to cross his chest in a defiant gesture.

The Wolf glanced around nervously, before pulling back his arm and stepping back further into the shadows, so only the tip of his muzzle was illuminated by the glow of the light. “I do not know your name sir, and…”

“What makes you think I’m going to give it?” Nick replied, his voice devoid of any emotion, his internal temperament a complete mystery to those around. 

“Maybe because I shall give you mine, Lupus Savage, ready to be at your service from now, until the day our cause is complete!”

.

.

“And what cause may that be?” Nick finally asked after the last echo of Lupus’ words had vanished, a small grin growing on his lips as he spoke.

“Why my dear friend, what cause is there but the liberation of our people!” The Wolf said, as he moved back into the light, tilting over his head to expose his tame collar for emphasis before moving it back into place. Nick too came into the light, tilting his head slightly out of curiosity, before it returned to the level.

“Go on…”

.

.

“Go on?”

“Yes, my dear ‘friend’ in inverted comma’s, what do you think the liberation of our entails?” Nick asked. “What do you think I’ve been doing, skulking around this city for the last month or so doing?”

“Oh, just the regular Fox stuff and…” he replied warmly with a shrug, only pausing when he spotted the scowl on his opponent’s face. He gulped, though not a tremor or movement came from his Adam’s-apple, before carrying on in a far more cautious tone. “And in terms of the liberation, it involves tearing off the collars and putting us proud predator kind back on top!”

“Go on…”

“Go on?”

Nick sighed, shaking his head before rolling his paw to encourage Lupus to speak. “Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…

“Uh….”

“Go on, go on, go on, go on, go…”

“Well, of course it means allowing us to fill our carnal desires does it not!” Lupus proudly announce, before descending into a deep and rousing speech. “For how long have we been denied our rights, granted to us by none other than mother nature herself to hunt and feast the meek prey whose dominion has stripped us of all?! How long are we driven blood red mad on the nights of full moon, when our ancient hunger stirs but we are held back by their electric whip! Oh, my Vulpine cousin, for how long have you had to hold it in, as you stroll through this city of rabbits and sheep that grow fatter and fatter by the day!” Lupus finished his stirring speech with a powerful clenched fist, pumping down fiercely with the power of a predator at old. He brought it down and then right back up, into a firm salute.

His stoic expression faded ever slightly however, when he saw the Fox in front of him look on with disgust, shaking his head.

“I advise you remove yourself immediately,” Nick muttered. “Most Predators know who I am and what I do, and they know that my mission couldn’t be further from that… You speak like a grotesque parody of my kind, I’m tempted to think that you are, so be gone!”

“But…?”

“Go on!”

“Mr I…”

“Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…”

Nick was cut off by Savage’s foot stomping on the ground, a high-toned growl coming out of his mouth. His fist raised again, before swooping and swinging as he carried on with a passionate speech to the Fox in front of him. “My brother of hunger! Surely you know how many of us have perished while trying to defy the taming collars! Do you not wish to carry up the flame and sword of the fallen Predator empires! To unite and lead, on an endless hunt and pillage of the inferior kind, like the Predators rulers of the Katovulpian, Ursan and Lupurian empires of old! To quote a great poet, ‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind…?’ …Magpie Burns…”

.

There was a brief pause, before a third voice rang out. “You understand you’re three months plus late to pull that song?”

Lupus’ head turned up and he recoiled in shock as he saw the tiny water vole staring at him from above, his little legs swinging merrily as he perched himself on a beam.

“Shut up, Ratty!” the Wolf shouted, before furiously turning back to Nick, only for his eyes to widen in delayed amazement. He turned back to do a double take on the little prey mammal above him, his finger pointing out in confusion before he turned back to Nick. “Ye cannae be serious Nick! A prey mammal… here! Why would a meek animal like he, who has not once suffered the yawning hunger or sported the burn be here!”

Nick just shrugged at the shocked wolf, before a sly grin grew across his muzzle. “Because, your strange ideas are quite mistaken. My friend here, whose name is Tattletail and not Ratty, is quite a proponent of collar removal, seeing as he knows what a civilized bunch we are. In fact, he’s lived a nice long time among thousands of uncollared Preds, with not a worry in the world. Now, what was that you said about ‘the hunger’?”

“But… but, I…”

“Go on!”

“Oh good gracious no, not again!”

“Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…”

“How ’bout a cup of Tea?” Tattletail said, interrupting Nick. Snickering as he pulled out another water-reed to chew, he glanced at the Fox before looking back at the Wolf. “I can get it, Nick’s stuff’s crap and we can talk this all over... like the civilised mammals that at least two of us are.”

“Shut up, Ratty!” The Wolf barked back in response, before turning back to Nick and giving him a dark glare. “This has been a great waste of time, especially for a very important Predator like I! I would say good day Sir, but I don’t think you deserve that title nor a good day. Farewell!”

He turned to march away, getting several steps along before Nick spoke, halting him in his tracks.

“You’re not going anywhere, Frasier Maim!”

The hulking figure of the larger canine was as still as a statue for a second or so, before he turned around to glance at Nick, his aloof voice now tinted with a definitive hint of fear. “How… how did you…?”

“Frasier Maim?” Nick replied, shaking his head as he did so. “I have some powerful friends in some powerful places, who are a lot of help to me and who hold long grudges.”

“And how do I know that you have not merely ‘heard the stories’?”

“You know,” Tattletail began to say, all while slowly chewing a bit of greenery like he’d been doing all this time, “this reminds me of the time my Mum took me…”

“Shut up, Ratty!”

As the water vole scowled back in anger, the fur on the back of his head rising, before he resumed eating his reed, albeit with a dark glare plastered on his face. The wolf meanwhile brought up his paw and began fiddling with the edge of his trench coat, only to pause as Nick brought out a flat paw and cleared his throat.

“Oh, what now?” he groaned, before Nick spoke.

“Frasier Maim…”

.

_CRASH…._

_SMASH…._

_POW…._

_._

By the time the Wolf managed to raise one of his eyebrows in confusion, multiple crates all around him were already torn apart into a mist of planks and splinters. A dozen or so must have been broken apart from the inside, with twelve furious polar bears marching out to surround the two canines on all sides, their claws and teeth bared as they loomed over them. Lupus stared around in shock, spinning as he tried to work out what to do, before Nick’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Say Frasier Maim three times, and a good chunk of the Polar Bear mafia might appear. Isn’t that right Raymond?”

As the largest of the polar bears, looming directly behind the wolf, nodded, the Lupine’s paw shot into his pocket and drew out the dart pistol he’d concealed in there, pointing it dead straight at Fox ahead of him. “This is Frasier Maim, wishing you good mental health you vile Pelt!”

_Click…_

The sound of a gun cocking rung out through the hall, only it wasn’t from the Wolf. Looking up he spotted Tattletail with a gun almost half his size, its dart pointed directly at him. Spitting out the last fragment of reed he’d been chewing, he opened his mouth to speak, ready to put down the mysterious wolf with a killer one liner.

“Shut up, Ratty!”

The water vole’s mouth closed and he scowled. Not even bothering to suppress his enraged growl, he leant forwards and put his finger round the trigger, ready to pull. Lupus was ready too, his arm out dead straight and finger poised to pull the trigger of his own gun, whose muzzle stood less than an inch from Nick. The Fox, however, didn’t seem the least bit concerned and, after giving a long-winded yawn that spread to at least two of the Ursine’s in the background, he spoke.

“You’re really in a pickle now, aren’t you?”

“Says the Fox with a gun pointed at him.”

“I’m not really concerned with that.”

“You should be!”

Nick gave a faint chuckle as he shook his head, before carrying on. “Kozlov told me about how you appeared and turned two of his friend’s savage. You let them run around for a bit before the ZPD picked them up and quarantined them forever more.”

“A fitting place for you and your savage kind to spend the rest of your wretched years on this earth!”

“Listen Mr Wolf, here’s the deal. You dart me and I go savage, but one of these polar bears can easily restrain me! Heck, however much I hate the idea of it, they can grab me by my scruff when I’m bonzo if they so wish, so long as they get some physical restraints on me and keep me safe till the stuff wares off. That, meanwhile, leaves eleven polar bears to restrain you…”

“You realize my collar is bust?” The Wolf said with a menacing grin as he reached up with his other paws and deftly clicked the green light on it three times. There was a short click and the strap came loose, before it was slotted down into one of his inner pockets for safe keeping.

“I did,” Nick said nodding, “You’d have certainly red lighted yourself with your speech if it weren’t. But, my collar is bust too.”

“The collars on my brothers. Also kaputski,” Raymond said to murmuring agreement. “Is very nice.”

“I’d say mine was,” Tattletail began, “but it’s a rather moot…”

“Shut up, Ratty!”

“You sound like a broken record, you know that Mr Wolf,” Nick said out loud, spending the time to carefully gauge and sniff at his opponent. “But then again, I don’t think you are a Wolf at all.”

“Don’t be absurd! Of course I’m a Wolf,” the Lupine barked backed, only to be met with Nick’s shaking head.

“Exhibit A: You failed to sniff out an ambush. While I had my fellows put on a hefty dose of musk-mask, I was picking their distinctly ursine scent throughout all of this.”

“How do you know I didn’t lose my smell in a freak accident?”

“Like the one that kept your head as level as a pond? Oh wait, you leant it to the side when removing your fake collar, didn’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen mate,” Nick began to say as he shook his head and looked up to Tattletail up above. “When you saw my friend there and did a double take, literally every canine would have their neck bent ninety degrees to the side! You however…”

“Maybe I’m more evolved?”

“That could explain exhibit C: the fact that you smell nothing like a wolf! I’m not sure what you smell of, it’s nothing like any Pred I know, although it does seem like you took a recent dip in au-de-fear. Also, Exhibit D: You really call that a growl? It comes from the pit of your stomach mate.”

“Is that all?” the captive Wolf muttered as he moved in to prod Nick’s nose with his weapon.

“Exhibit E: your distinct lack of emotions. I’m not going to lie, that may be the best mask I’ve ever seen, but this close it just seems so lifeless. So dead.”

“Like I’m going to make you! Face it, you’re doomed!”

“As I’ve said before, you’re the one who’s stuffed. I think I’m going to give you a dose of your own medicine and turn you savage. Then I’ll set you out on the streets for the ZPD to pick up, alongside your weapons and ammo. I think that they’ll really enjoy that.”

“You really think so?” the Wolf asked, a cocky grin escaping his muzzle. “I can shoot you, and a good bunch of your goons, before using my knee to ruin the prospects of that rather weedy looking specimen standing second to the left. Yes, you…” he said, as he pointed at a rather worried looking Bear. “Then as his head rises up from his agonised moan, I can use it to propel myself up onto yonder beam where I shall use my momentum to put my boot through the window. From there I can lever myself up, out onto the roof, and immediately call the ZPD to pick your men up! Being a chomper, and a chomper evolved to compulsively lie and deceive at that, no one shall believe you and you shall look helplessly on as I contain the evil that is the Predator mammal once and for all!”

.

“Two problems.”

.

Lupus just groaned. “What…?”

“Firstly,” Nick began, as he held up the fingers on one paw to count off with. “You gave away your escape plan…”

“That was but one of ten-thousand options, I…”

“Can you prove that?”

The wolf sneered, shaking his head as he did so. “You think I might fall for a trick like that?”

“Meh,” Nick said with a shrug. “I hoped so, always worth a shot.”

“Well,” Lupus sneered back, “I’ll still be gone way before the first bit of foam is on your mouth!”

“Except for problem two.”

“Problem two?”

“Yeh,” Nick replied, nodding as he did so. “Escaping is hard when you’ve been tranq’d.”

_POP…_

All eyes in the room went wide with the sound of tattletails dart gun going off. The sound of compressed air echoed around the room along with the faint screams of the small rodent and the thud he made as he hit a large crate, the end of his short lesson on why newton’s 3rd law was very much a female canine. The eyes of Nick and the Bears widened even more, however, as they rested on the dart, embedded in the coat of a very conscious Wolf.

‘Ha…Ha..Ha Ha!’ he chuckled as he reached down and plucked it out, letting it drop down and rattle along the stone floor. “My dear friend, it was never a problem! May the best mammal win!”

Nick only had time to part his mouth slightly before he felt the sting of the Wolf’s gun hitting his chest. It slammed into him and sent him stumbling backwards, smashing his head against a nearby crate. His short legs collapsing under his weight as he fell down hard on his tail, he opened his gritted eyes again to see the wolf spin around, his trenchcoat lifting up like a dress as he did so, all while he prepared a second shot. He was too slow however, and as he pulled the trigger once more the massive paws of a polar bear smashed into his own, pushing the guns muzzle up. The POP echoed around as a second shot launched out, grazing the polar bear’s head fur as he tightened his grin. Nick noticed the expression on the damned wolf turn from gritted rage and determination to terror and pain as his arm was bent back, the gun tearing from his paws. Only it wasn’t, as the paw went with the gun revealing the white, juicy, tasty, delicious limb beneath. Other polar bears, nasty angry polar bears, were crowding around the Wolf as they stomped down on his feet with their own and let loose a barrage of punches and kicks.

The weaklings, Nick thought, as he bared his teeth and growled, a furious bloodlust flowing through him as he advanced on all fours towards the taunting wolf. It didn’t smell like Wolf. It smelled like juicy prey, and he despised it and desired it so much that he was going to tear it apart. His teeth, his claws, biting and clawing and snapping and feasting, he was going to pick it to the bone! He was going to kill it! He was…

The Savage Fox’s growling stopped, replaced with a whimper as he flinched back, limping his he surveyed his surroundings. His slit eyes spotted a small and juicy water vole racing away, before looking down and noticing the dart stuck into one of his legs, the surrounding skin feeling cool and numb…

It tried to turn back to the Bears and Lupus, ready to massacre them, only to stumble and collapse as the edges of its vision turned to black.

The last thing it saw before it lost consciousness was the muzzle of the wolf being torn off, revealing the terrified sheep beneath.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34:**

.

_Judy’s Diary. 15.04.16._

.

Well, today was rather eventful, wasn’t it?

I mean, it’s not every day that you’re called to pick up a savage wolf, and he turns out to be a sheep. A savage sheep in quite literal Wolf’s clothing.

I was in the front of the cruiser when his mask came off. The first I knew of it was a ~~very, very, very…~~ very X 10 20 loud HOLY S**T from officer McHorn next to me. Admittedly, I first admonished him on using such a vulgar swear where a perfectly good sweet cheese and crackers would have worked just fine.

Then he grabbed my ears, pulled me around, and set my eyes on the face of a previously feral, now very tranq’ed out Sheep. And this wasn’t just your ordinary, puff in the white flock kind of sheep. No, of all sheep it had to be, it was THE DEPUTY MAYOR!

.

Future Judy, let that sink in for a bit (more).

Woolly, the biggest moron in the city, found savage and feral, in an incredibly convincing wolf costume, complete with an advanced, military spec dart/pellet gun. A gun which had been recently fired, and had stained the inside of his jacket. To add a final cherry to the top of this mad conspiracy cake, McHorn touched this stuff and went all shouty, shouty and aggressive. When he heard that his football team had lost on the drive back, he punched _through_ the car radio and into the engine bay!

When the car naturally stopped after that, he got out and began kicking the wheels in. Suffice to say, I think that the squad car graveyard has a new resident.

.

RIP anomalous cruiser.

I will remember you :’(

.

Anyway, we eventually got the deputy mayor relocated to the ZPD savage containment area while McHorn ‘cooled off’. He told everyone that the stuff he’d touched felt ‘tingly’ and after that, he just felt ‘mad at everything’. Some of the lab-techs have come to the same conclusion, with them arguing that, in intense doses, that drug would produce results indistinguishable from that of a garden variety savage Pred.

This was also proved when one of the lab techs accidentally burst a pellet on themselves and went savage herself.

Thankfully it was a sloth…

.

Oh, Sweet cheese and crackers.

I’m going to hell...

I am SO going to hell!

I’m sorry, but have you ever seen a savage Sloth? Can you even comprehend what one would look like! I mean, I tried to stop laughing, but when the officers began moving up close and, rather than containing her pretended that they were doing slo-mo shots in an action film…

.

It’s just a tragedy that Bogo ordered us to confiscate the video… we’d rise faster up Ewetube than one of those funny Pred Shocks compilation! (Not that I watch those! (except maybe for research purposes)).

Which begs one awfully big question.

Was Woolly the cause of the savage outbreaks?

After recovering, he said that he’d been abducted by some Pred extremists, who were planning to use the formula to create a ‘Predtopia’ or something or other (why would they want that anyway? We’re already living in Zootopia! Everyone’s already living in a ‘topia’). Regardless, he stated that they were planning to frame him, handing him an experimental weapon, disguising him and setting him off on his rampage. He even gave us info of where they were based.

From what I gather, he went very quiet when he was told that the gun he was found with was both moulded specifically to his hooves, and had seen heavy use.

Thinking back out my previous ‘prick theory’ and the claims of a Wolf attacking them, I have come to the inevitable conclusion. Deputy dumbass is the instigator of the savage reversions. I mean, having been brought over from the Knights of the muzzle case in order to help with this, I was also able to confirm very quickly that he has NO alibi. All the times when Preds went savage, he was out of the public eye. The mayor herself called up and confirmed as much, stating that she had nothing to pin him down. Now, this could be throwing him under the bus if she’s got anything to do with it, but that’s something we’ll consider later.

In the shorter term, however, we went to the area he said he was attacked and found no evidence of any activity around there. We did, however, find a big car parked nearby which the jam cams showed being driven by a wolf, or a sheep in wolfs clothing as the case is. The tufts of wool in the front seat seem to confirm it. Tracking down the plate number, it seems to be registered to a small apartment in the cloud-forest district. I’m going to take some time out to investigate that.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Okay. Woolly might as well be stuffed.

I found this apartment in a sheep neighbourhood, who’s residents all said that a sheep lived there (many recognising it as ‘a Woolly lookalike with a Texan accent’). It had a fridge stocked with sheep food and a spice rack full of pepper sprays and Wolf and Fox-Rep.

As for his bedroom, he had a full-on conspiracy board, showing ALL of the Preds who went savage and EXACTLY where they went loco. As if to put him in even hotter water, he had stocks and shares in personal defence companies and a majority share in one who tried to sell the city an Ultra-collar. He also had orders, lots and lots of orders, for midnicampun holicithias. I know that my parents used them as pest-control, so I called them up, and what they said SHOCKED ME!

.

.

Ughhh… I’ve been reading too much click bait, I’m getting infected.

.

Anyway, they said that one of my uncles ate one once and HE went savage too. Apparently took a great big bite out of mum’s elbow.

The lab techs were quick to consult the universities and such, and found out that ‘Night-Howler’ toxin so to say doesn’t exist. Instead, it’s a cocktail of fairly standard chemicals which, when mixed together, have this effect. That’s why it was so hard to pinpoint before, there was no signature chemical to track. Instead, more of a misbalance of sorts… A misbalance which lines up with each and every one of the Preds that we took in.

.

But there’s more…

The final nail in the coffin?

These professors and stuff did publish their results on this plant years ago, identifying the toxins at fault, the symptoms and the cure. But when trying to track their work down stated it was gone.

Not a trace.

Nada.

Zilch…

.

An investigative look at Woolly’s office in city hall, meanwhile, found stacks and stacks of research on Pred-behaviour, toxins and all sorts.

HE WAS CENSORING IT!

.

It doesn’t take a genius to work this out. Woolly, disguised as a Wolf, would go around making prominent Preds go savage. Not only removing major individuals and potential rivals/critics, but stirring up fear and panic that turned into profit for himself!

Oh Judy, you are a genius!

I mean, I’m looking at them now. One Polar Bear and an Artic Fox were key associates of the mafia boss Kozlov, one being his best man! We have some journalists, some businessmen, some random joes and even…

.

Nicholas Vulpes…?

.

Now I’m just confused. I mean, really confused. It’s not like he’s gone savage, unless…

.

Sweet cheese and crackers, there’s one more... One more photo than there were savage Preds. Nicholas Vulpes must have been the next target, only to survive.

But why?

Why would Woolly go after Nick Vulpes, and how could he…

Okay, thinking back to our meetings I can sort of get an idea of just how he might catch out Woolly where so many others have failed… And I could easily see him capturing Woolly, turning his gun against him and setting him up for us to capture.

But still, WHAT has this Fox done/ is doing to become such a target. Who is Nicholas Vulpes?

He’s an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in an infuriatingly smug grin.

And I’m going to find out what’s going on with him, if it’s the last thing I ever do!

.

ADDENDUM:

YES! THIS TIME BOGO DID GIVE ME PERMISSION TO FOLLOW HIM!

.

Now I’ve got to actually find him first though…

.

Well, duty (and hours spent on the jam cams) calls.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35:**

.

**February, 2003.**

.

The moon was out.

Its white light shimmered out across the rolling sea as we travelled ever forward. It was hard to believe that it had been less than eleven years since I left Zootopia, it seemed like a lifetime, but here I was regardless.

.

Returning from home…

.

I could never consider this city home. Not after it forced us and so many others to leave. Not after it, however indirectly, killed my sister. It was a loose connection to blame it for her death, but I chose to use it regardless.

It made things easier.

Easy things were in short supply of late, but at least our trip back across had been plain sailing. No great storms, no driving rain, no engine trouble. We’d just sailed across the ocean until we saw the glow off to the west.

It was growing larger now, larger and larger and brighter as we came in close. My ears pricked, trying to see if they could hear anything new, but it was just the familiar sounds of water and engines. I rapped my foot claws against the hard metal deck, delaying the inevitable, before I took the plunge.

My hand into my pocket.

A box pulled out.

A chain fastened around my neck.

Was it here where I’d taken this stupid thing off all those years ago? Probably not. It wasn’t even the same collar, that one was still in storage back at home, sealed away and gathering dust in the dark. It was a good thing, given that that collar was completely unmodified. This one, meanwhile, had been jigged about, edited and declawed. It would never shock in reaction to anger or hate ever again. For simplicities sake, I’d requested that it be reprogrammed with my first and last names, along with a made up middle one. If any prey were still looking for us, the only thing to connect me to my past self was my first name, nothing that they could follow.

The city up ahead was larger now, the individual towers and buildings becoming clear and obvious. Up on my right was the silhouette of the great palm hotel, which had been open for less than a year when I first passed it on the train, so long ago that I’d loved the collar around my neck. Looking in closer, it seemed to still be the pinnacle of opulence that it had set out to be. Behind it, glowing orange like a sunset, stood the heat emitters of the climate wall which were working throughout the night to keep the desert district detached from the flow and rhythm of the seasons.

The glow of the proper city itself was only now beginning to break apart into the individual towers. The great pyramid of light that I’d spotted hours ago slowly unmerged to reveal the intricate cluster of individual skyscrapers within, each one moulded and flowing as if it were a living thing or sculpture rather than a mammal made construct. Unlike the palm hotel, however, I couldn’t name any of them. Maybe when I was younger I’d have been able to pick out city hall, or name the tallest tower in each district. Now though I was clueless. Squinting closer in, I couldn’t even tell which buildings were old and which ones were new, the memories of the old skyline too far gone to tell.

At least I could tell that the big stadium off to my right was new. That certainly wasn’t there ten years ago.

 As we moved to the left, tracking towards the old fishing warehouses and my old neighbourhood, I couldn’t help but notice how dark is was compared to everything else. Sure, it had been dark when we had left, but at least there had been plenty of lights still scattered about here and there. Now though, it was dead.

The fishing fleets were gone.

Even the Preds moved out.

Just an empty husk of a city. I couldn’t help but snicker, however, as I wondered whether that was more our doing than theirs. After all, we’d taken over a lot of Preds in our time, hadn’t we? They had to have come from somewhere…

There was still something of interest on this side of the bay though, evidence enough coming from the fact that the huge bay bridge, which had crossed the water even in my time, was full of cars racing back and forth across it. It was all lit up, just like the rest of the city, to the point where it might as well have been day. Maybe I was biased, given my night vision, but it just seemed so pointlessly bright. Unlike back in Pinehaven, the sky seemed grey, rather than its rightful inky night-time black. Where previously there had been more stars than I could ever count (not for want of trying), only the brightest of the bright could be seen here.

The noise too, was different. Back home there had been voices carried across the air, the sound of the wind and the sea and, maybe just maybe, the rattle of one of Honey’s trains or the gurgle of a stream. Here though, it was like there was this permanent background rumble, just carrying on and on. The combined racket of millions of mammals and cars and all sorts of other things.

As we docked up next to a large warehouse, built close too and almost under the bridge itself, I shrugged and began strolling back down into the bowels of the ship. I’d be in this city for the next week or so, so I figured I might as well get used to it and do some exploration. For that though, I’d need to be well rested for tomorrow. Entering my cabin, I checked on the smaller basket next to mine and got in my own. Pulling down my sleep mask and burrowing under the covers, I closed my eyes and drifted off…

.

.

.

_“uhhhh…”_

_._

_._

_“Uhhhh”_

_._

_._

_“Uh Uh Waaaa! UWAAAHH!!! UWAAAAHHH!!!”_

_._

The sound of the shrill cries woke me up, slicing through my sleep like a cold steel knife. I tried to ignore it, hoping that it would stop on its own, but as it began getting louder and louder so did its cruel pull on my heart.

Concern and worry began flicking through me as I sprang into action. Drawing the sleep mask from off my face, I peered up from under my blanket and saw the light pouring in from behind the curtains of our room.

“At least you’re being useful, you precious little alarm clock, you!” I mumbled as I got up and stretched, before making my way over to the wailing Kit. Reaching in and pulling him up, I couldn’t help but smile as I picked up my Son, my cute bundle-of fluff bubbly little son, and held him tight for comfort. He’d grown a lot in the first six months of his life, all fit and strong. As I cradled him in close he began to kick and fuss slightly, his short and stubby claws scratching against my chest, but I didn’t mind. Instead, I began bouncing him up and down while bending down to give his downy brown head fur a playful lick and preen. It had begun to slowly change of late, the short black down when he’d been first born long ago replaced with the current brown down and now even that was going. His first adult strands of red and white fur were appearing, but bar the white tip of his still thin tail he still looked like a dust cloud that had grown legs and a mouth. The increasing volume of his screams however made me think that storm cloud would be a more apt description, given that he showed the same temperament.

Scowling slightly as my mood began to shift from concern to annoyance, I dove in and began a tougher preening session. My tongue out, it raked over him faster and wider, cleaning him up and letting him know that a mammal who loved him was next to him.

He quietened down.

But not by much.

I didn’t know if it made him feel any safer, or just shut him up, but having enough of his cries I grabbed his scruff between two of my fingers on one hand while letting go with the other. He slipped, dropped, hung and was blissfully silenced.

“Better now?” I asked, smiling at him as he hung there, his limbs and tongue drooping out in front, perfectly silent. “Doesn’t this make parenting easier, Oscar? However much I love you, and ooh I doooo love you, thank evolution that you came with a mute button.”

Standing up, I walked out into the corridor before making my way through the ship. Apart from the occasional turn of my head to give a playful tickly and coo at the little Kit I carried along with me, my trip to the galley was without distraction. Entering into the space, I knelt down and reached into one of the fridges, pulling out a small bottle full of white milk. I smiled as I dropped Oscar onto my leg, supporting him in place with one paw while the other moved the bottle closer to him.

“Last of Mommy’s private reserve, Lil’ champ. It’s formula after this.”

The teat went into his mouth and he cradled it tight, beginning to suck. I would have said that he was a good boy, but I could tell straight away that he was non-committal and I didn’t want to tempt fate. It didn’t matter though, as he almost immediately spat it out and began wailing again, ever more vigorously. I could smell if a baby on the other end of the ship needed changing, so I knew that it wasn’t an issue with him.

It wasn’t hunger, or sleepiness.

The sad truth was that I knew exactly what it was.

I sighed as I hugged him in tighter, preening his crown with my tongue as my tears flowed down and met with his. It was the worst feeling in the world.

Not being able to protect the ones you loved.

Three months ago, my Kits’ eyes had opened. Both Hester and I had been so excited, knowing that this was the first milestone in their life. It would be the first time they saw their parents. The first time we saw their eyes. Skye had inherited my green eyes, little pools of jade in her head that looked out ever so curiously. I remembered how Hester had described them as ‘orbs’, up until the whole of my side of the family had convinced her on just how stupid a description it was. Little Cass meanwhile had the deep amber eyes of Hester and my Dad, the standard Fox affair.

I looked down at Oscar now, his right eye looking up at me with that same deep orange. But turning, his left eye came into view. Just like the right it was orange, but only a thin sliver could be seen. All around it, his eye was red with irritation and gummy with liquid and puss. His top eyelid seemed to work but his nictitating membrane, normally tucked in to the far corner of his eye, lay half across it. And then there was his bottom eyelid, the root of all this sorrow. From afar it was easy to miss what was wrong, but up close it was clear.

His eyelashes were gone.

I couldn’t help but sigh, however, as I remembered how they weren’t gone. They were there alright, but growing on the inside of his eyelid. Every time he moved it, or tried to blink, or even tried to look around, they would scratch his eye. I shivered thinking about how much pain he must be in, wishing that I could take it for him. But instead he was cursed with this and, without treatment, would most likely go half blind before he even reached double digits.

The surgery was simple enough, Madge had said so. Entropion, for that was what it was called, could be cured by stitching the eyelid tight, pulling the eyelashes back into the correct position. I did an improv job now, extending a claw and hooking the eyelid before pulling down. Careful to keep him steady, I felt a wave of relief as the hairs were pulled out from his eye. He seemed to feel the relief too, quietening down a little and relaxing, but I knew that it was only a temporary solution. The chances were that our surgeons back on the island could fix him. We’d learned to make the bulk of the equipment and drugs that were available to Zootopia roughly fifty years before or so. A bad heart attack or stroke was admittedly a death sentence, while cancer would require you to retreat back to Zootopia and pretend to be a homeless mammal seeking help. But for the bulk of operations, we could pull through. Fixing broken limbs, appendectomies and caesarean sections were all something that you could trust them to do. But that was only after plenty of practice on corpses of those who’d passed away. No-one had thought of practicing this particular procedure, and while the medically inclined Honey badger and those in her crew said that they should be able to do it, none wanted to take the risk.

So here I was in Zootopia, with my son on my knee and an operation to organise. Something quite hard when you’re a none-person. Good thing we’d struck up a plan. Unfortunately, it was one which was destined to get under my skin however safe I knew it to be.

“Oh, hello! I’m Alice, you must be Nick…”

My ears pricked with surprise and I turned to face a Red Fox vixen standing in the doorway, her tail swishing about playfully behind her. She was smiling, as was the little Fox Kit in her arms, who was busy bouncing up and down and playing with a chew toy. She looked at me before turning to look at my Son, a frown appearing on her face. “Is that?”

“Oscar?” I replied, before nodding solemnly as I turned back to face him. He was still sniffling, his normally warm scent laced with hints of fear and worry, something that made each breath I took pull on my heart. The Vixen must has smelt it too, given how she was sniffing as she came over to look at him, stepping back as she saw his eye. I glanced up to see her paws cover her mouth as she gasped, her parental instincts going into overdrive just like mine.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t worry,” I muttered back as I looked up, spotting the little Kit she was cradling. “And he is?”

“Tommy… Tommy Redtail.”

“Well Oscar,” I said as I turned back to my own boy, “You’re gonna have to be real brave for daddy, you hear me? Real brave and real smart, though I know you can be both. You’re gonna have to pretend to be Tommy Redtail for the next few weeks. That Okay?”

He seemed not to notice, still whimpering on in pain. I was feeling pretty miserable too, before I felt a soft paw touch my shoulder, jolting me up.

“Don’t worry, he’s gonna be okay,” Alice said softly, comforting me as she looked on at my own boy in sympathy. “He’ll be in and out and all fixed up before you know it. Tell you what, hand him to me and I’ll get him off to hospital right away, stop the pain ASAP.”

I paused for a moment, before slowly nodding. I brought Oscar up and hugged him tight, slowly chinning him as I petted the back of his head before pulling him away so I could give him a few final kisses and licks. Alice just waited patiently as I finished with him, before turning to her and handing him over.

“We only have cloth nappies back at the town,” I mentioned, probably trying to diffuse the tension or something. “Might want to change him into something more inconspicuous… you know.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, as she took hold of my boy. He fussed and kicked a bit as he squirmed in her arms, the unsure look on her face as clear as day. “Uh, can I?” she asked, gesturing to the back of his neck. I had a few natural misgivings, but I nodded and watched on as she pinched his scruff and let him drop, making him go silent.

“Just… just get it done, please,” I muttered. I knew that only family members were allowed to visit in hospital, and I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. I’d just mope and skulk around the city for a bit while my own flesh and blood was being operated on. Despite the growing pit in my stomach, I got up and walked over, giving him a final big goodbye kiss and wishing him well, before waving Alice off. As she left I turned and walked into a corner of the room and curled up tight into a snivelling, nerve wracked ball. I’d realise afterwards what a good thing it was that the collar I wore was a dud.

.

.

.

After Alice had left with the Kits, I’d made true on my promise and had decided to walk around the city, working the stress out of my body in the form of feet in front of feet, making their way ever forward. It didn’t take long, however, for my head to rise up at the wonder of the city around me. I’d hardly entered it before the tall buildings started. Even the small ones, four or five storey tenements, seemed to dwarf the town hall which had dominated Pinehaven. The larger ones however seemed to take up the sky. One particular one, which I believed was new, stuck out in the skyline so I made my way towards it. Finally arriving at its base, a big plaza in front of a large transit station, I just stood there and looked up. Though I had to shade my eyes from the glare, the scale of it just took my breath away. Due to the way it pointed up into a spire, it seemed to stretch up into infinity, and could likely hold more mammals than lived in our whole town and still have room to spare. Glancing down, I turned and jumped back, watching as a whole line of cute little Prey schoolkids, hardly six or seven, walked past. All dressed up in their uniforms, little green jumpers worn over white polo shirts with grey trouser over their legs, they were the epitome of cute. I couldn’t help but stand back and smile as my heart melted, watching the adorable little fawns, lambs, bunny kits, and all sorts of other mammals make their way past, each one as googly eyed as me. All so innocent, warm and happy… My eyes widened as one of them wandered off towards me. I smiled and pointed back at the long line but the little Colt seemed uninterested, his eyes instead widening as he set them on my tail.

“Hello, Teacher!” I called out as the young Foal reached over to me and bent down to hold my tail between his arms. “I need some assistance here!”

I couldn’t help but smirk as a primly dressed Hare who’d been at the back of the line wandered over to me, shrugging with a smile on her face. Although he was only little, the young Horse was roughly twice my height whereas the top of her head barely came up to the base of my muzzle.

“Sorry, he’s got a thing for fluffiness!”

“You mean he’s got taste,” I joked back, giving my tail a playful little swish and sending the young horse giggling.

“Casper, what did we say about personal space!” she called out, sending her charge’s ears flicking as they homed in on her. Meekly getting up, he trotted off with the rest of the group as I waved them off. I too turned, planning to make my way around the city and see the sights.

.

Half an hour later I was on the subway, rattling through the tunnels beneath the city. One place I’d never visited before was the nocturnal district, which seemed odd given that it now housed most of the Foxes in the city. Looking out the windows at the few streaking lines of the tunnel, I held my breath in anticipation, before we raced out into one of the great caverns. Our line now hanging from the roof of the district, I looked out at the spectacular view in front of me. There were buildings on the floor, reaching up to the roof. There were those on the roof, reaching down to the ground. There were those chiselled into the walls, or the support columns, or those which might as well have been support columns. All of them were different crazy shapes and crazy colours and crazy styles, the only thing unifying them being the glowing neon signs dotted here there and everywhere, advertising anything and everything, and giving the whole place an unearthly, ghostly glow. And then, it was gone as we raced into another tunnel. Turning away, I sat back down and looked at the motley collection of mammals around me. My eyes picked up at the sight of a little baby squirrel, pulling funny faces at me. Naturally I responded in kind, using my fingers to pull my face into a hundred and one silly shapes, sending the little mammals giggling with laughter.

“What are you doing, Chomper!?”

Snapping out of the little bit of fun, I turned and set my eyes on the furious scowl of an angry Boar, his angry eyes staring right into me as if I’d been doing something evil.

“I was just having a little fun with…”

“Don’t play me for a fool, FOX!” he snarled back, taking the time to menacingly crack his knuckles as he advanced forward. I got out of my seat and began walking back, my paws up in the air and held up, trying to calm him down. I was suddenly very nervous and looked around to see if any of the other mammals were seeing this.

They all were.

Their eyes were all trained on me, but were either hidden behind newspapers, shying away or glaring fiercely at me. I couldn’t help but remember the looks I’d got on the day I got my first shock, the looks I was receiving now reaching down and pulling back that painful memory to the present. There were far fewer looks of worry or anger here, but what got to me were those ones which were just observing. Just looking on and seeing what was happening, without bothering to make any attempt to step up and help. Somehow, I knew that they knew that this was wrong.

They just didn’t care.

_THUD…_

A sharp punch to my chest brought me back to reality, the painful ache quickly followed by a groan as my winded body ached. Looking up, I spotted the boar advance again, growling this time, before throwing a punch at my head. I ducked, letting the hoof fly above me, merely clipping my ears as I continued backwards at an ever-faster pace.

“Listen Sir, can you please…”

“SHUT YOUR TRAP, CHOMPER!” he yelled, before charging forward full tilt at me. I shot to the side and let him sail past, though he still clipped my arm, his tusk cutting through my shirt and drawing blood. I yipped out in pain, my eyes still set on the mad mammal as I retreated ever faster.

“Stop attacking me!” I shouted. “I didn’t do anything! I’m surrend…”

“YOU’RE DEAD MEAT, YOU FILTHY CHOMPER” he screamed back, silencing me.

I glanced around, desperate to see if any help was coming.

.

It wasn’t…

.

Part of me was screaming at me to fight him, to growl and tear at him, to hold my ground. But my brain told me that I had to keep my calm. I couldn’t let them realise my collar was bust, though some around would likely already have the suspicion.

_“MIND THE GAP…”_

My ears pricked and I turned, almost shouting out in joy as I saw my salvation. Before the Boar had a chance to react I raced out of the train carriage and into the crowd on the platform, making sure to put as much distance between him and I as possible. I ducked and weaved through the legs, turning this way and that.

.

Down a random set of stairs.

.

Up another.

.

Before I found myself at another platform and leapt onto the waiting train.

My breath was ragged and my throat burned. I scanned around and, as the doors closed, I sighed with relief.

I was safe.

.

In the hour or so it took me to return to the boat, I recovered from my little scare. I settled back into my groove and carried on walking, only this time I actually looked. Even though I knew what this city stood for and what it did, I’d let its false beauty trick me. While they’d been some moments of kindness and joy, the incident with the Boar reminded me of just how my kind were treated here.

As I walked back, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander and settle on them.

All the Preds of Zootopia.

Their heads hung low, their clothes and fur scruffy, a world-weary slog in their steps. I saw Wolves cower in front of sheep and otters slink along, huddled together as they tried to find some strength in numbers, only to be shooed away from a storefront by an angry Panda with a broom, who promptly pointed at the large no-preds sign in his window. I spotted a police patrol move along, tracking a pack of teenage hyena girls who were chatting with each other, one or two small shopping bags held between them. Even from here I could tell how hollow their smiles and movements were.

And their eyes and tails….

Every single Pred I spotted had dead, tired eyes and tails that just dragged along the floor behind them, no energy to wag them present.

The worst thing I saw by far, however, was a little Jackal Pup pointing up, jumping and talking excitedly at a storefront while her mother stood behind. She just looked on sadly with an orange light around her neck. Stepping out into the street, I glanced at the window and gulped as I saw the wide variety of TAME collars on display, along with the decorating kits and accessories. It sent a shiver to my bone, seeing a child look up with excited eyes at the chains she’d have to wear for the rest of her life…

.

.

.

I spent most of the time back on the boat just waiting there, thinking about what I’d seen, what I’d remembered and, of course, worrying about my son. Alice was supposed to call me when his surgery was done, but that could be today, tomorrow, anytime… It was like a live bug living in my stomach, gnawing away as it feasted on me, creating a pit that got larger and larger and larger and…

“Nick Vulpes?”

I jolted up from the shock of the new voice and turned, only this time to face a big burly Bear. He was a brown Bear and an old one at that, his fur filled with grey and white strands, though at least he let off a pleasant smoky smell rather than a more stereotypical old man smell.

“What is it to you?” I snarked back, not in the mood for a conversation.

“More than you think,” he said, as he leant in closer.

“And what do I think?” I replied back with a shrug.

“That I’m just some dumb old brown Bear wanting to go with you to a place where I can be free?” He replied, nonchalantly.

“And aren’t you?”

The great Ursine paused for a moment, I could tell that he was thinking, and then let out a small chuckle. I snorted and looked away, not wanting to bother myself with something so cliché. “I’m smarter than the average Bear, I’ll tell you that…”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence, given how low you’re setting the bar.”

“But I’m not going with you and your ship, I’m staying over here…”

My eyes widened at what he said and I looked up at him, my head tilting to the side as I pondered his statement. “Well,” I finally replied, “at least one of your own two last sentences must be lies then…”

“No,” he shrugged. “I’m happy here…”

“Trust me you’re not!” I said back, a tinge of concern growing for the old man. “After eleven years of being free, I thought that this city wouldn’t… couldn’t be _that_ bad. It kept up the illusion for a bit, then it reared its ugly head.”

“And isn’t it ugly?” the smoke scented bear replied, “and as you get older it gets uglier and uglier.”

“So why don’t you go with us then? Why stay here?” I asked. “When I looked at the other Preds in this city, they looked… they looked… they looked half Dead! They were Zombies! Walking about slowly and without purpose or happiness or…”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Pardon?” I asked back, confused by the sudden interjection.

“I asked how does that make you feel?”

I turned away and looked at the floor, I’d have fussed it with my foot-paw had it reached it. “It makes me feel angry. Angry that these innocent people, MY PEOPLE, are treated like filth. That those prey mammals make us wear emotion detecting torture devices but still make us out to be the bad guys. We only have one life, don’t we? But because of them, and their crazy fears and lies… we have to live a half-life. “

“In short?”

“I want to do more to help,” I grunted, bitter and angry. “More, much more…”

.

“So do I,” the large Bear grunted, placing his heavy paw on my shoulder, almost belting me forward. “If you take after your father, then you’re a clever Fox and you’ll work out why I stay here.”

.

“You want to help us?” I asked.

“That I do,” he said back, before chuckling warmly. “That I already have. I used to be one of the richest Preds in the city, don’t you know?”

My eyelids rose at the statement. “The more you learn…”

“The more indeed,” he replied, with a small nod. He paused, thinking, before continuing. “So, tell me. As an intelligent Fox, what should we do about a certain issue cropping up? That of some Prey celebrities, who’ve realised that someone should do something about the large number of Preds who are going missing, are getting more vocal.”

I stopped and thought about it for a bit. It made sense that someone would raise the alarm and, thinking about it, it would be the glossy celebrity types. Sure, there were some good Prey about. The incident with the school kids proved it and, back in the day, didn’t a prey mammal steal our first collar key? “Maybe we could open up to the world? Show us that we can build a city on our own, run it… that we’re good. At the very least, they just have to tolerate us.”

“I’d like to think that would work,” the large Bear said back. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it would, but that one percent…”

“I can guess what you mean,” I replied back, before sporting a sly grin to accompany a fun little joke that suddenly popped into my head. “But what else? Claim that these vanishings are coming from some phoney-baloney hate group, with stupid white costumes, titles and a crazy name? I don’t know, something like the ‘Collar crew’ or ‘Knights of the muzzle!’”

The large Ursine snickered at my joke, while I smiled on, only for his mouth to pucker up in thought for a second or so, his eyes strained up to the ceiling. “I think we could do with something who’s abbreviation has some nice alliteration going. But those can be good placeholders.”

“So,” I replied with a smile. “I’m useful already.”

“That you are,” the Bear replied. “And in you I see potential. Potential to do a lot of good.”

“Do you?” I asked. “Seeing these things, I do want to help the Preds still here…”

“It will take an enormous amount of effort,” he interrupted. “A lot of pain. A lot of time. A lot of training and practice and dedication. You’ll have to embrace the very stereotypes you tried to run away from. You’ll be away from your family from ages, and there will be no pay… And all through this, an awful lot of risk…”

I paused, thinking about it. What I had to lose. What I’d seen…

.

“I’ll do it.” I replied, before feeling the pat of a huge paw on my back.

.

“And I think you’ll be excellent at it,” he said back. “We do have some allies though. Old ones. New ones. Law abiding ones. Criminal ones. Pred ones and Prey ones. Even one in the force, who’s very useful. They’ll help prepare you.”

“And help me do what needs to be done,” I replied, feeling more convinced about this by the second. I’d lived a life that so few Predators got to experience. A decent one. A good one. And knowing how terrible the feeling of powerlessness was, I knew that I had a duty to help those not as lucky as me.

“That’s the plan,” the Bear replied back, as he fished out a small card from his pocket. “This is the contact details of one of our most important allies. Junior Detective Oates, in the ZPD. Unless something more important comes up, I advise you go and see him tomorrow.”

I opened my mouth to speak, only for the shrill ring of a phone to distract us both.

“Talking about something more important, however…” he said, his eyes motioning towards the phone. “That call is for you, I assume?”

By the time he’d finished the sentence I was already at the phone, holding it up to my ears as I spoke.

“Hello?” I asked, the line silent for a second or so.

.

“Nick…”

The voice was familiar.

.

“Alice?”

.

“The surgery is over, it was a great success. He’s being discharged tomorrow…”


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36:**

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There was no telling when the dream ended and real life began again.

.

.

Nick had remembered getting angry. He remembered being tranquilised and blacking out.

.

.

After that thought, there was just a swirl of thoughts. Anger. Fear. Pain. The few dreams he remembered where of him seeing hate and danger everywhere. Of lashing out as he tried to maul it. Of anger and fury and rage…

Now though there was just darkness.

There was the sense that he was trapped in something. All his body, his jaws, all locked up tightly.

But now though, Nick was pretty sure that he was in control again. Closing his eyes, he tested his theory, wiggling toes and twitching his tail and trying to stretch, quickly finding out that he was in some kind of cell. His pads and shoulders ached, as did the roof of his head and spine, as if he’d been smashing them into the walls in an attempt to break out.

The Fox shrugged, guessing that in his savage state that was likely what happened.

The biggest sense, however, was that of something wrapping around his head and jaw. Cold, harsh, slicing through his fur and rubbing his skin. From the odd twitch here and there he could tell that some of these areas were sore. He’d cut himself on whatever it was.

Opening his eyes, the Fox groaned as even his acute night vision once more registered nothing. There was just pitch blackness, as if light was completely absent from this environment.

“Hello…”

His muted groan was met with silence, not helped as his opening jaws were hemmed in, gagging his words somewhat as they came out. It did have one effect, however, as the Fox began to realise just what it was on his mouth. Making his way on his elbows to one of the walls, he rubbed it up against the side, letting its movement and reactions confirm his initial suspicions.

“Yup… This here be a muzzle,” he groaned as he shuffled his way back into the centre of his cell. Not wanting to aggravate his mouth any further, he reached back with his paw and found the black strap holding it against his head. Grabbing it, he hauled it off and threw it away, before revelling in his new freedom by stretching his mouth out open and wide.

“Guys, I’m good now…!  Hello!”

His words echoed around the small room, which a curious knock confirmed to be some wooden box or something, likely an old travelling trunk or packing case. There wasn’t anything particularly bad about being stuck in here, just like there wasn’t anything particularly bad waking up with a muzzle on him. It was just mildly annoying, and in any case the Fox needed to toilet…

His mouth puckered up at the thought, and Nick took a concerned sniff that pretty much confirmed that, in his savage state at least, he’d used this place as a urinal. On the plus side, he’d noticed the distinct lack of clothing on his body, so at least it wasn’t that embarrassing.

“Come on guys!?” he shouted out again, louder this time as he brought his fist down powerfully against the wall of his box…

“Box-Fox…” he muttered, repeating his thought out loud before giving a little chuckle. Moving around so that he lay on his back, he rested his head on his hands and just sat there as if he were sun-bathing. It was an uncomfortable position to sleep in, that was certain. However, he just wanted to think over what had happened in his last moments of sentience.

Could he have lost?

The distressing thought filled his head, but with a shake he dismissed it. He’d seen Kozlov’s goons pile down onto the Wolf assassin, though the image of him turning into a sheep must have been the start of the dreams. Or maybe a tranquiliser based hallucination? Tattletail had poked him, had he not? So surely, he’d still be in their care? The fact that he still seemed to have his dud collar, and was in a wooden box of all things, seemed to rule out a ZPD capture.

Nick would have pondered some more, only it was at that point that he heard the sound of a lock being undone. There was a click, a huff, and a blinding flash of white light crawling across the lid of what was now quite clearly a trunk. His night vision still turned up to full, Nick closed his eyes out of instinct and put on a smug grin as he was brought back to the world of the living.

.

“Dear God Slick, your smugness is sickening, you know that?”

Chuckling at the deep sound of a childhood friend, Nick raised his paw to shield his sensitive eyes before slowly opening them. Adjusted to the light, he pulled his paw out of the way, revealing the silhouette of none other than Finnick looking down at him.

“You know it, you love it!”

The diminutive Fox scowled before shaking his head, evidently not pleased. “When I got here on the boat yesterday, wanting to give you a big surprise or something for your B-Day, I heard you got yourself turned savage!”

“I am a mammal of many talents.”

“And then, I see the box you got stuffed in, muzzled up for safety an’ all, shaking and rattling about while you scream on inside. Next thing I know, you’re here looking up at me with a scat-eatin’ grin on your muzzle!”

“As I said, I’m…”

“Naked and smelling of piss…”

“And I’m still pulling it off,” Nick smirked back, eliciting a groan from his friend.

“My point exactly…”

“I wasn’t given much to go on,” the large Fox casually replied as he brought his paw down from above him, finally sure that his eyes had adjusted to the glare of the artificial lighting in the room they were in. Looking around, he planted his hands on the side of the trunk and levered himself up, glancing down for a second at the muzzle he’d been placed in to pick it up, before chucking it at Finnick.

“I’ve heard that some Preds have a phobia of those things…”

“Must suck,” Finnick commented.

“Must indeed,” Nick replied, his eyes resting on the glinting metal for a second. “Imagine having a phobia of one of those things, getting shoved in one, and having a working collar on…”

“Sounds like something that a sick, twisted, depraved sadist would write about,” Finnick grumbled, sending the larger Fox into a slight chuckle. “Not that you could easily read it, given how bad the writing would be…”

“Sounds about right.”

“Anyway,” the Fennec muttered, looking around at the empty room before turning back to Nick with a smile on his face. “Happy Late Birthday Bro!”

Nick smiled before stepping forward with a wide grin, before fist dumping his little friend. “Thanks pal.”

.

.

Over the next hour or so Nick had got himself cleaned up in a nearby shower, preened himself and dressed up in a fresh pair of clothes. It turned out that he’d woken up in one of the main warehouses that they used to dock the ship at, a huge arch like structure that stood next to the main western bay bridge. The room he’d woken up in was an ageing control room, that would have likely once been someone’s office or something. Stretching his arms and legs out all the way, working his muscles back into position after the night spent in the trunk, he took his time before returning to the upper level and Finnick, who’d brought out a table, some chairs and a six-pack of beer. Parched and in need of something to numb him down, Nick was all too ready to sit down beside his friend and slowly drink a toast to the start his thirty-third year on this planet.

.

“Not a good Birthday, was it?” the Fennec mused as he sucked at the froth coming out of his can. He looked up curiously at the larger Fox, waiting for him to finish his current sip and speak.

“Nope…” came the reply, “On the watch-mojo video of Nick Vulpes’s top ten worth birthdays… this is certainly in the honourable mentions section.”

.

“I don’t get it?”

Two pairs of eyes swivelled around to the door of the office, perched at the top of a steep staircase. His form filling the door, the old Bear Smokey was leaning in, looking around for a second before making his way forward to the table and picking up his own can of beer.

“I won’t explain,” Nick quietly said as the Bear undid the top of his can and downed the comparatively small pint in one gulp. His distaste at the stuff was evident from his hacking cough and the way his tongue stuck out at the end, and he tossed the can away as he turned back to Nick in time for the vulpine’s newest question. “So, what brings you here?”

“Just watching them load up the boat,” Smokey replied with a shrug. “Nice to see some of those poor Orphans get on and see it after hearing the stories, all excited and such.”

“Yep, and good to know the pressure’s now on to complete the mission.” Nick replied, before taking a big swig of his can, finishing off the last of his drink and revelling in the pleasant buzz it gave him.

“That’s right, and I wanna’ get back to my lady friend,” Finnick piped in.

“Well don’t worry, a date has been set. We’ll be casting off in less than a week.”

“Good,” Smokey replied. “The ZPD will still be distracted by all of the protests, so you’ve got a perfect window.”

Nick smiled and settled down, before his eyes widened as he registered Smokey’s statement. Looking towards the Bear, his steeply tilting head meant he had no need to verbally ask what the Bear was talking about.

“It’s about the Wolf-Sheep that turned you savage, Nick,” Smokey explained.

“Wolf-Sheep?”

“A Sheep in Wolf’s clothing…”

“So,” Nick said, his eyebrows rising as he did so. “I wasn’t dreaming that bit.”

“No, you weren’t, and that’s not the best part. That wasn’t just any sheep, it was the assistant mayor!”

Nick’s eyes widened, before he bent over in a sudden coughing fit, still trying to register what had just been said. Smokey seemed happy to give him time to wait, and resisted the urge to pat him on the back, knowing the rather destructive effects it would have.

“I think most of the city had the same reaction,” the Ursine commented as the Red Fox beside him finally recovered.

“But… but… he’s a MORON!”

“I think that’s what he wanted you to think,” Smokey replied. “But, regardless, Kozlov’s goons decided to re-dress him up, give him a treatment with his own medicine and set him loose. The ZPD picked him up, found out, and seeing as the faecal matter has hit the fan…”

“Everything’s one hell of a mess,” Nick said back, finishing the Bear’s sentence.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Finnick interjected. “The ZPD found his secret base and all, all but confirming that he’s behind the savage cases. He’s reserving his right to remain silent. The mayor is pleading plausible deniability and every Pred in this city has finally found their will to bite faces off!”

“Something helped by how Mr Woolly was apparently censoring any evidence that collars weren’t needed,” Smokey continued. “Evidence which is now being paraded around by every Pred. From what I gather, they’re crowding around the town hall, blocking up everything, and demanding that something be done!”

“Not that something, if it ever comes, will be good!” Finnick shouted out, before grabbing another can of beer and undoing the top, before proceeding to guzzle it down.

“Indeed,” Smokey muttered grimly. “And there are some places in this world which are already beginning to look a lot uglier. And until things either change for the better, or get much worse, it’s only going to get uglier.”

Nick stood there, thinking over what had been said and what could be done, before standing out and speaking. “It seems we live in interesting times. If Smokey’s right, then this is a perfect distraction for our plan. Finnick’s right, although I must admonish him for his pessimism, that this situation may turn very ugly. We carry on with the plan regardless. No dawdling. No distractions. No…”

.

_RING…  RING…  RING…_

All eyes turned towards Nick, who pulled out a battered pay as you go phone from his pocket. Pressing the accept button, he held it up to his ear and spoke.

“Hello, this is Nick…”

“Yow awlroit Nick? Sid un I…”

Nick shut off the voice on the other side with a hard press on the hang up button, before sliding the phone away from him, across the table.

“No dawdling!” he stated.

“No distractions!” he added.

“Nothing that can get us into any more trouble or pull us from the course. We go ahead. We win. And we get out of this city, our mission complete, or we die trying!”


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37:**

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**August, 2013.**

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Summer had come again, and with it the food of the season. The whole idea of seasonal food was a strange concept to me back when I was young, back in Zootopia. But out here, after over twenty years of living off the produce we grew ourselves, it was second nature. While back in the city they bent nature to their will, with the huge climate controls and access to food from across the whole world, here we settled down into the flow of nature, ebbing and flowing with the tides of the years.

I couldn’t help but think how fast time had been flowing, despite how slow life often felt out here.

It seemed like only yesterday that I was cradling three tiny Kits in my arms, but eleven years had passed since then.

Some things, though, never changed. Moving up into one of the canteens that faced the town hall, the same one I’d been visiting most mornings since before they were even born, I strolled up to the front and placed down my order slip, already licking my lips as a platter of breakfast fruits and steaming pies and pastries were brought out.

Here, even breakfast changed with the seasons, something that I’d have found crazy back when I was a little Kit back in Zootopia, always eating my favourite cereal day in day out.

Every autumn, with fresh vegetables and harvested wheat, some mammals would devour through hardy porridge’s or some kind of spicy vegetable stew. I meanwhile would chomp through honey on toast, honey and oat flapjacks, syrupy pancakes or paprika spiced potatoes hash’s.

Come winter, when the air was cold and snow billowed around, we’d switch to a diet more fitting for the towns fully carnivorous residents. Bug sausage, crispy bits of scorpion skin and offal pudding. Alongside these were more omnivorous delicacies such as garlic fried mushrooms, fried bread stuffed with melted cheese, more of the same old potato hash’s and, on the precious occasions they were in stock, fried eggs.

Or scrambled eggs…

Or poached eggs…

.

I felt my mouth salivating at the thought of one of those delicacies….

.

But I could only shake my head, knowing that we were cruelly out of them.

.

Spring was a different affair altogether, with both bugs and fresh food running low. It was then that we’d turn to our good friend the sea. Smoked fish was a favourite, with smoked salmon, kippers, herring and many others, along with fresh roe and maybe even the odd pot of mollycoddle stew. I’d always end up with double helpings of that stuff when it came on, and I’d always silently thank the gods for making my little Skye such a fussy eater afterwards.

.

But summer was always my favourite. It was here that the fruit bushes and trees were in full bloom, and everyone wanted some of the action. Taking the breakfast platter, or rather brunch platter given that it was close to eleven, I placed down my payment for tomorrow’s food before I turned and took it out, my mouth already moist from the sight and smells in front of me. There was a large pot of fresh summer berries: strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, loganberries, cranberries and of course a double helping of delicious blueberries; alongside a nice pot of thick dipping cream. Then there were other fruits like apples, pears, cherries and even the odd kiwi, all picked less than a day ago. Alongside all these were pastries, from apple turnovers to a sweet blueberry pie.

Spending my time gawking at the food, my stomach growing in anticipation, I hardly noticed as I passed through the thin alley that lead past my parents’ store and to my own home in the back garden.

“Got the food Dad?” I heard Cass call out, and I looked up to see her hanging upside down from a shabby climbing frame built onto the side of the log cabin. Her tongue was already out, and drooped down past her muzzle and eyes, dripping saliva as it moved up and down with each of her hungry pants.

“I’ll give you one guess,” I called back, as I turned to the door and walked in. My ears pricked as I heard the thud of her dropping down, onto her head most likely, before she raced in after me. Right behind her was Skye, walking in at a much more restrained pace and with her head still half buried in a book she’d borrowed from the town library a few days ago. Unlike Cass, who wore nothing more than a short crop top and some tiny jean-shorts, Skye had a flowing indigo dress while her tail and head fur was done up in light blue ribbons, with a large pink bow on her right ear. She’d even been begging to get her ears pierced, though I’d said repeatedly that she had to wait for her next birthday to do so.

“About time, Slicky boy!” came a cry from above me and, as I placed the food down onto our table, I glanced up to see Hess looking down at me, a flash of irritation on her muzzle.

A flash that was quickly matched by my own.

“Firstly Hess,” I scolded, “you were still asleep when I left our basket. You even begged me to stay in for ten more minutes!”

“Can you prove that?” she snarked back, before sticking her tongue out at me.

“Secondly…” I began, before pausing. “Screw it, it’s not worth the effort.”

Hess just smiled and shook her head, before standing up and making her way down the stairs and to the table. My two little Vixen’s meanwhile set about getting out the plates and cutlery. Cass getting her own, and Skye handling all the rest. I paused for a bit, looking and sniffing around, before calling for the final member of my little skulk.

“Oscar! Breakfast!”

There was a short pause as nothing happened, before I called out his name again. “Oscar!”

.

I glanced to the side and spotted Hester shrug as she sat down, before she immediately grabbed a cherry in her paw, threw it up into the air and failed spectacularly to catch it in her mouth, the fruit instead hitting her right between her eyes. Seeing that she was occupied, I walked off, snickering as I went. As my foot planted itself on the first step of the stairs, my ears twitched and I suddenly felt the whack of a far more on target cherry impacting me on my cheek. I paused, glancing over to see Hester trying to look as innocent as possible and my two daughters giggling, before I picked up the fruit, threw it into my mouth and carried on.

“Oscar, breakfast!” I called again, taking the opportunity to lean over the landing railings on spit the cherry pip down below. Smiling as I heard a surprised ‘Yip’ from the breakfast table, I paused at the door to my son’s room and rapped it with my claws. “Come on son!”

.

“Uuuugggghhhh…..”

There was the soft sound of shuffling sheets and then pawsteps, before the door unlocked and my Son came out. I’d seen some pictures of my dear Pap’s when he was Oscars age and the resemblance was uncanny, to the point where you might think they were identical twins. He was a bit short, which over-exaggerated his thick build, and his fur was all a darker shade of red, almost maroon. His face was where the biggest resemblance lay with a shorter, thicker muzzle with little to no upturn and deep amber eyes, though given how heavy lidded his eyelids were they were hard to spot.

“Morning sunshine, I thought you woke up earlier?”

“I did,” he muttered after a brief paused, before his face winced up and he let out a great yawn.

“Looks like you had a major lie in.”

There was a brief pause as he thought of what to say, before speaking. “I had a sleep relapse dad,” he said as he slowly walked down the balcony towards the stairs, his tail dragging limply along the floor as he went. A small spike of curiosity flowing through me, I turned the other way and peeked into his room. Unlike all the other walls in the house, the ones in his bedroom were covered in sheets of paper, with hundreds of scribbly drawings on them. While there were a few pictures of our town, or out of proportion (but steadily improving) portraits of family and friends, many of the sketches showed giant buildings and huge numbers of different mammals. I recognised a few famous buildings from Zootopia, and thought I could spot what looked like his own climate wall on one end. To the left of it many of the buildings were snowy, while to the right the yellows and oranges of sand and sandstone took over.

“Dad, breakfast!”

Hearing Cass call up, in the exact same tone I’d used earlier for Oscar, I chose to ask him about his sketches another time. I leant back out, closed the door and made my way down to the breakfast table, ducking a fast approaching cherry pip as I went.

.

.

.

“So, Skye. Are you going to try a Kiwi?” I asked, holding one of the fruits in my paw as I spoke. While the other members of my family readily ate up the food with little to no manners, the silver vixen gently put her knife and fork down, looked at the fruit in disgust and shook her side from side to side. “And why not?” I asked.

“It’s green,” she said back, with complete sincerity and not a hint of the expected disgust.

“What’s wrong with something that’s green?”

“It’s wrong!” she said out loud, “no good food is ever green. The only creatures that eat green food are prey ones, and we’re not nasty Prey, are we?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Oscar. “What’s wrong with Prey mammals?”

Sky returned to Oscar and scowled. “They’re all mean and horrible. It says so in my book!”

“Well, how do you know your dumb princess picture book is right?!”

In an instant, Oscar backed off as he saw Skye bare her teeth. Everyone backed off when we saw her growl, the sound sounding incredibly strange coming out of her mouth, none of us remembering the last time she’d ever done so. She quickly cut it off, and silence filled the air.

.

.

 “…Sorry Sis,” Oscar finally muttered, as time seemed to restart again. Skye immediately leant forward to carefully lift up a slice of blueberry pie, gently picking it up as Cass suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. As Oscar meekly turned back to his own food and Hester pinched the Kiwi that started the whole growling affair for herself, curiosity got the better of me and I spoke up.

“What is your book about, Skye?”

My favourite Silver Fox was silent for a few seconds, as she chewed and swallowed the slice of pie that was in her mouth, before she replied. “It’s about princess Marina Anthonyil, the last crown princess of Katavulpia.”

“Still dumb!” Cass said, her tongue quickly sticking out as she tried to get a rise out of Skye, but only getting a venomous glare for her effort.

“Not really,” Hester began, “I used to love that book when I was young too. In fact, I think that might be my very copy, which I donated to the library.”

“That explains the picture of a Fox with hearts around him in the back then.”

Whatever Hester wanted to say in response was lost as I coughed several times in shock at the revelation, which was only worsened as Skye pulled out her book, opened it to the incriminating page and pushed it over, revealing the eponymous drawing for me to see. I wasted no time in standing up, walking over to a desk and retrieving a pen, and scribbling out the drawing, erasing it from history. My ears felt surprisingly warm, and were ringing with everyone’s laughter. My damage control complete, I walked back to the table and pushed the book back across it to Skye’s waiting arms, before taking the rest of the blueberry pie, grabbing a huge chunk, and stuffing my mouth with it.

Meanwhile Hester, finally composing herself despite this being something she should have been equally embarrassed by, turned back to Skye to continue their conversation. “So, I’m guessing that as you’ve seen the back, you’ve already read it all?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“I uh, I’ve seen all the pictures before, but never really read anything beyond the captions until now. This is my first proper read-through, or at least the first I think I’ll be able to finish. I tried before, but got stuck.”

“How do you get stuck on a stupid princess book?” Cass said, giggling as she did so. I half expected Skye to get up and thwack her with something, but instead she grabbed her book, opened it up to a random page and passed it over to her.

“Read it,” she ordered, and Cass dutifully replied.

“On the date of June the 15th, on the eve of King Lionheart’s 60th Birthday, the aristocracy of Katavulpia were cordially invited, in the spirit of commemoration, solidarity and resilience against the three years of defensive stalemate against the newly united Prey mammal forces, for a great ball to be held the following week in the granite palace of Praztrai. Marina, who had been nursing in the coastal refugee camps …” Cass paused for a moment, her head tilting to the side, before asking her sister a question. “Why would a dumb princess be a nurse?”

“Because she’s not a dumb Princess!”

“Okay… but this book is still dumb. I mean, it’s like a history book.”

“IT IS A HISTORY BOOK!”

“…Oh, sorry” Cass finally said, before closing it up and handing it back to a dangerously smug looking Skye, who quickly turned her sass on Oscar.

“Ozzy, in this book it talks about how Princess Marina helped nurse all the poor people that Prey mammals forced from their homes. Katavulpia was a happy Pred country that didn’t want to join with the Prey mammals and put everyone in collars, so the prey mammals declared war! They tried to enter the Katavulpian valleys through the mountains, and when they were pressed back they sent all their new dreadnought battleships along the coast to stop people fishing, and to blow all the towns and cities up! Doesn’t that seem all mean and horrible to you?”

Oscar just looked on with wide eyes and turned to me, gulping. “Dad, could…. Could the Prey mammals do that to us!”

“No son,” I replied. “Firstly, we’re doing our best to keep our little town a secret from them. Even if they do find us, we’re not a big industrial country that can field an army, and it’s not like they can say we’re sending raiding parties over to steal Prey to eat, can they? Even then, attacking us would make them pariah’s, with countries like Avaria stopping trade with them. It’s a different time Son, so don’t worry.”

He nodded slowly, before his head shifted, tilting as some thought or other entered his head. “Did Katavulpia send out raiding parties to steal Prey?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “Most people, even Prey mammals, admit that it was all made up.”

“And why would Avaria try to protect us now?” he asked, his voice growing more concerned. “Didn’t they protect Katavulpia back in the day?”

I paused, thinking about what I knew of history, before speaking. “They were a lot weaker back then, something to do with major coal shortages, and needed trade with the mammalian states to recover after their own war with Reptilia. Even if they wanted to fight, their fleet could only really sail to the east coast, where Zootopia now is. They’d have to sail for months around the world to get to Katavulpia on the west coast, though that didn’t stop many birds volunteering to fight for them.”

“Like this Owl here!” Skye said, grabbing her book, flicking through to a certain page and showing Oscar one of the pictures. Curious, I stood and looked over at it, seeing the eponymous Cougar princess standing proud and smiling on a rooftop, her short and curly hair gently flowing in the wind and a well-oiled rifle strapped over her shoulder. While the city behind was broken and burnt from months of shelling, she seemed flawless even though she only wore a rolled-up shirt and tough combat trousers rather than a princess’s standard attire. On one of her shoulders perched an owl in similar combat gear, though sans sleeves in order to stop interference with his wings. I couldn’t help but noticed that he seemed rather gaunt, and had some noticeably bushy eyebrows as well.

“That looks like my kind of Princess!” Cass commented, though Skye ignored her and began speaking.

“The book here says that, after Katavulpian railway cannons, along with a sea otter battalion armed with limpet mines, were used to drive off the Mammalian fleet from the coast around the city of Gyarhal, she joined the forces who went into the city to liberate those who’d been trapped inside, so that she could care for them. She even fought against some of the Prey landing forces who’d tried to get into the city! It says here that, after that, she wanted to meet the Avarian spotter crews who’d told the cannons where the ships were and where they needed to fire.”

“If I remember correctly, that Owl was very famous.” Hester said, to which Skye nodded.

“Says here: This is the only time that Princess Marina and influential Avarian author, George Owlwell, met. He would later write of his service in the free militia in his book, ‘Homage to Katavulpia’… Maybe when I finish this book I could read that one.”

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “The only Owlwell I’ve read is Ant Farm, which you’d probably find rather good.”

“Meh,” Hester added, “I was always more of an Aldous Duckley person.”

With that, the conversation slowed to a halt as we carried on eating. I knew better than to continue pressuring Skye to try kiwi’s and she carefully ate up the rest of her breakfast, as always acting like a desert was at stake. Cass, however, busily gobbled down her food as if she were starving, before announcing that she was going to the park to play, and reminding Skye about a sleepover that she’d planned for later than night. Skye finished off her food and, after asking to leave the table, walked out after her sister.

“Now then,” I began, turning to my wife as I spoke. “With those two occupied, what are you doing Hess?” I grinned a bit as I thought up a rather good tease. “Got your own sleepover planned?”

Hester blinked a few times, obviously trying to think of a come-back, before a cunning grin grew on her muzzle and she snarked back. “Three days with the girls, starting immediately. Bye-Bye!”

With that she stood up and walked out, flicking my ear as she went and snapping my train of thought back into action. “When was this planned?”

“About ten or twenty seconds ago,” she said with an innocent shrug. “Remember that pause? That was me planning it. See you later Slick!”

And with a blown kiss and flick of her tail she was gone, leaving the two men of the house alone. I paused for a bit, piquing my mouth about as I thought, before I turned to my son. “Don’t worry, she won’t be gone for three days.”

“I know,” he replied through a mouth full of strawberries. “Two days or one, what’s your guess?”

“She seemed to be enjoying that teasing, so I’d guess she’d go two days to make the joke funnier.”

“Great…” he huffed, before he slid himself off his chair and began walking away. Something in his voice didn’t seem right, and as I watched him walk up the stairs, his tail dragging on the steps, my concern grew. “Son? Everything Okay?”

He was silent, just looking down at the floor as he climbed.

“Oscar,” I said while I stood up. “Are you lonely? Maybe I could arrange something with Fenrick, so you could do something with Hassan? Or do something with Popy? Or both of your favourite Fennecs?”

 “I’m fine Dad,” he muttered back.

“Or you could go over to the Redtail’s?” I offered. “You always like playing with Tommy, don’t you?”

“Dad…”

 “Or maybe we could spend some quality father and son time together? Maybe granddad or grandpa in too. Maybe both?” I grinned at the thought, pulling up my arm to raise up an excited clenched fist. “Or just all three Piberius boys, spending some time together!?”

Oscar paused, turning to face me. I couldn’t help but notice how dull his usually rich amber eyes were. “It’s fine Dad, Grandad’s going to be teaching me stuff later anyway…”

“Oscar,” I said, the worry gnawing away at me. “If you’re bored or something, we could do something… Anything?”

“Dad… everything’s boring…” he said, “but I’m fine.” And with that he turned away and walked off into his room.

But while he said he was fine, I definitely wasn’t.

.

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* * *

 

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“And you see, the thing is I can tell something is wrong with him. He’s tired. He’s bored. And I know that that’s not normally him. He’s creative, heck what he’s doing with Pap’s next door is proof enough.”

“I know dear,” Mum said back, as she handed me one of the fresh cakes she’d baked earlier on in the day. We were sitting in the lounge at the back of my parent’s store, sheltering from warmth of the midday sun in the cool, stone den. “Some children go through moods like this. You just have to be here for them.”

“Any advice?”

“Well,” Mum began, before shaking her head. “Most of the experience I’ve got is for poor Kits who’ve just been tamed, which isn’t really the same, and that’s about it. After living through that, you never took life for granted so didn’t have any of these moods. While Lynn…”

“Yeh,” I muttered back. “Let’s not go there.”

“Let’s not,” she agreed, her voice taking on a sadder tone. “Though, maybe it’s not too late for me.”

.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, confused before my eyes widened. I leant forward, taking some deep sniffs of her scent. “Are you…” I began to say, before trailing as I picked up nothing.

“Oh, I’m not, don’t worry!” she said back, chuckling as she waved a paw. “Wrong side of fifty, even if it is just one year. But… I was thinking about these adoption things you and your friends back in Zootopia organise.”

“If… If you want that I’ll do it!” I replied, though Mum just rolled her eyes back.

“Still deciding. Still deciding. And even then, John needs to agree to it, though I don’t think he’ll have much trouble. Would you like a new Brother or Sister Nick?”

“I don’t know,” I said, my paws up in the air. “They’d be more like my nephew or niece, and more like cousins to the kids… But we all get on with those members of the family on Hess’s side, so I see no problem.”

“Good, good,” she replied. “But for now, I think we should focus on your own son, Son. I’ve got to go and run some errands, but Ozzy’s next door with John.”

“What are you suggesting?” I asked, curious about her plan.

“I’m suggesting, Son, that for once you fit into one of those Fox stereotypes and do something a bit sneaky. I’ll whisper all that stuff into your father’s ear, and he can probe Oscar a bit. See if he’ll spill stuff to his Grandad that he won’t to you.”

“Fair nuff’” I replied. As Mum got up, I followed her to the door and then held back as she stepped into the storefront. While I usually worked on my own stuff, as well as stuff with my Dad, it was currently occupied by just him and Oscar, the latter receiving a tailoring lesson. I heard Dad’s foot-paws shuffle across the floor, and what I thought was a bit of whispering, before it was all quiet for a moment or two.

.

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“What was that about Grandad?” Oscar said curiously.

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“Oh, noting,” my Dad replied back. “Just something about a present for your Auntie Honey’s birthday.”

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There was some soft mumbling, before Oscar replied. “I thought you could just say yes to investing in her newest project and that would be enough…”

“Oh, she’s got a new project?” Pap’s said, sounding interested. “I’ve been out of the loop ever since I took a break from the town hall. More trains…?”

“More trains.” Oscar confirmed.

“Your father say she’s crazy?”

“Yep.”

“Did Honey shout at him and swat him with a newspaper?”

“No, dragged him around by the ear asking him to define ‘you’re crazy’.”

“… Sounds about right,” my Dad commented, chuckling as I tenderly massaged my right ear.

“Just a little thing? Or a really big one like the freight line to the limestone quarry?”

“Really big!” Oscar said back, my heart warming as he sounded at least a bit excited about something. “I think she wants to prove herself ever since Al retired. It isn’t just a new railway, it’s a whole new town she’s planned out too. Calls it Altus, and says it’s going to be our version of Tundra town.”

“So, wait?” Pap’s asked incredulously, “She wants to build our own climate systems and stuff?”

“No, she wants to build it in the mountains. Says there’s a big flat meadow just below the tallest one, with a lake and cliffs she wants to build houses into.”

“I think I know where your talking about, hiked up there last summer with your Dad.” I remembered the trip well, and listened closely as he recollected it. “We had a snowball fight from a pile that had survived through spring. Guess if we’re gonna build a tundra town, there’s no better place.”

“I guess…”

“And it’ll actually be like a proper tundra, instead of the silly always winter in Zootopia.”

There was a pause for a few seconds, before Oscar gave his mirthful reply. “Yeh…”

.

“You sound very unenthused,” my father observed. “You used to draw pictures of towns and trains, alongside your skyscrapers and stuff! Can’t you do some of that stuff for Honey?”

“Uh…,” Oscar replied, dragging out his hesitation as he tried to remember the details. “She already has designs and stuff. And a big plan for where her new line will go, what tunnels and bridges she’ll need, how she’ll protect the track from snowdrifts and such in winter...”

“How’s that?”

“She originally wanted to put electric heaters all along it… then build it on salt blocks… But now she’s putting it all in its own wooden tunnel thing.”

There was a soft chuckle. “I can see why your Dad called her crazy.”

“That’s just idiot talk for unambitious, Gramps,” Oscar parroted, taking the words right out a certain Honey Badger’s mouth. “Anyway, she’s even testing out a cog system she read about, so the train can go up all the real steep slopes.” He paused, thinking, before carrying on in the same bored tone. “She also says that once complete we can use it to make it easier to build loads of new dams and stuff in the mountains for power, and a polar bear wants to run his own trains on the top part of the line to make a ski resort.”

.

“Aren’t you interested in all of this?” my father asked. “I’ve seen your pictures, you love big things and construction. You used to love riding on the trains, and having Honey show you around her workshop?”

“It’s… It’s just boring now.”

“What’s changed?”

“Nothing, but… OW!!!”

I flinched back and gritted my teeth at the sudden sound of pain from my son, slowly unwinding myself as the conversation on the other side continued.

“That’s what you get for talking and sewing at the same time little champ.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Sorry, and despite your accident you’re getting really good. You know that?”

“No… I didn’t. Thanks…”

.

“So,” Oscar began again after a short pause, his voice sounding at least slightly curious. “I know you taught Grandma how to sew, and she and you taught my dad who taught me. Who taught you?”

“Oh, that’s an old story I haven’t told in a long time. You see, you know how Honey acts a bit different to everyone?”

“What, the way she’s always being loud, and messing with things and overreacting?”

“Yeh,” my dad replied, “like that. Well… my parents were different too. But different in another way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, back in Zootopia everything for Foxes like us was a lot, lot harder, and they couldn’t really cope with the collars and the hate. They were sad a lot of the time, and scared, and that meant they lashed out at other people. This made their collars shock them, and it only made everything worse. The only time they seemed not like that was when they got drunk or took tranquilisers, which they did to escape their pain…” I could feel his voice trail off, as pain slowly filled it. “You know,” he continued, “I still wish that they hadn’t taken their lives. That I could have brought them over here with us…”

.

“And, the tailoring?”

.

“Oh, right,” he said, snapping back into action. “Well, anyway, everything in my house was really dirty and tatty. And you could spot that my clothes were messier than everyone else’s. It wasn’t just there, it was on TV and such. All these happy, successful people with good clothes. And being a little Kit, I thought that if I wore good clothes it would stop people being mean to me and make me happier. Maybe even give me new friends. So, as some teachers taught us basic sewing in school, I asked them to help me get better at it. They taught me a few things that I knew, and then told me to just practice. And that’s what I did. I sewed up bits of fabric together, then made clothing for stuffed toys.”

“Did you get any new friends?”

“Oh, not from that no,” my father replied. “During one of my parent’s better years, they got together with some other Foxes, so us Kits could play together. I made a few friends there instead.”

“What next?”

“Well, after leaving high school, I worked a basic job and put myself through night school to learn how to properly make clothes, then I started making some mail order clothes, then rather than buying a house I bought our old store in Happytown on the cheap and opened up shop.”

.

“Back in Zootopia, were there many more of these courses?” Oscar asked.

“Oh yes. Hundreds,” my father answered. “Thousands even. And then there was college, and university, and all sorts of big things to learn.”

“And loads of different mammals?”

“Yes, lots of Preds. Many that we don’t have here. And of course, millions of Prey mammals. From tiny mice and rodents, to giant elephants and tall giraffes. There were bats, who are mammals that can fly, and sloths who are crazy slow… Why do you ask?”

“I went to Zootopia when I was a baby, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. You had a problem with your eye, and we wanted to send you to proper doctors.”

“… Could I go back?”

“Oscar,” my Dad said with a deep pause. “Why on earth would you want to go back there?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he replied, and I couldn’t help but notice his voice rising with excitement. “It’s a city with every type of mammal in it! And it has towers that reach up to the sky, and deserts and snow and giant caves and rainforests all next to each other! And there’s all sorts of new music coming out every day that I’ve never heard before, and new people to meet and friends to make! And… and here, it… it’s just got boring. I want to go places and explore! And all we have here are forests and mountains and stuff that all look the same.”

.

.

“Oscar, do you know why we came here?” my Dad said after a pause.

“Yeh… The collars and stuff, but it really can’t…”

“Trust me, it is!” he interrupted, and I flinched back as I heard a rarely used tone of anger in his voice. “When your father went with you back to Zootopia, he was there for less than one day before an angry Prey mammal decided to try and assault him. He begged for help but no-one helped him.”

“So? People are jerks here too.”

“Remember what I said about my parents? How I thought making them nice clean clothes could make them better. Heal them…”

“Yeh…”

“The only thing that could have healed them was coming out here!” my father urged, the pain in his voice evident “Don’t you understand that Oscar? The collars, and all that abuse, killed them! And you’ve lived your entire life here and haven’t suffered any of that, trust me I never want you too, but you have no idea what you’ve been spared from.”

“But can’t things have gotten better?”

.

“Let me show you something.”

The conversation in the other room stopped and I heard the shuffling of feet coming towards the door. Immediately, I backed off and sat down in a chair, tilting my muzzle up and letting my tongue roll out as I pretended to be in a fake slumber.

“…That’s Dad sleeping, Granddad,” I heard Oscar say, forcing me to disguise a sudden guffaw as a cough.

“Not what I wanted to show you. Come on upstairs, you need to see this.”

As I heard the creaking of the stairs as the two walked up I carefully opened my eyes. Finding the coast was clear, I carefully stood up and sneaked on after them. As I skulked up the stairs on all fours I heard the door to Dads bedroom open, before there was the shuffling of boxes and then the sound of a padlock being opened.

“Grandad… Is… is that?”

“Not mine. It’s your mothers…”

I peeked around the corner, and I felt my heart falter with dread as I saw a shock collar in my Dad’s paws.

“Can I… touch it?”

“Sure.”

I watched as Oscar curiously took the item in his paws, before he began running his pads over it. Feeling the tough plastic strap. Feeling around the shock unit, and running his claw around the edge of the mood light.

“What are these two little bumps on the inside.”

“They’re made of metal, aren’t they?

“Yes… Is this where the shock comes from? I mean, they’re attached to the shock unit.”

“Yes,” my father replied sullenly. “I still remember how, if it was a hot summer and you’d been shedding a lot, those cold things would touch down to your skin. Always sent a chill down your spine, knowing that the shock would be three times as worse or so.”

“Did they ever run out?”

“They kept themselves charged up by generating electricity from your body heat and movement,” my father replied with a shrug. “Though I still remember my parents and I getting these new versions to replace the huge old ones that needed charging up every month or so at a ‘Pred Check’.”

“What did getting shocked feel like?”

“Remember when that hornet stung you on the nose last spring?”

“Not really…”

“Well, imagine it,” my father ordered. “Then make every part of your body ache and jitter for five minutes or so after.”

“…But they only shock you if you were angry, or…”

“NO!” my Dad almost shouted, making me flinch back behind the cover of the wall. “They would shock you whenever you got too emotional! You talked about all this new music in Zootopia, well guess what! You can’t really enjoy it or rock out to it, because your collar will shock you! And you want to explore and visit all these places in Zootopia? It’ll shock you for your excitement! And your wonder! And if you fall in love, like your Grandma and I or your father and mother, well it’ll shock you for your passion too!”

“And you’re a kid, Oscar,” I said, finally unable to hold back. I stepped into the room and looked at my father and my son, and the vile shock collar they held between them. “And wearing one of those things, you won’t be able to even play like a child has a right to. Do you know why I go back to Zootopia?”

“To bring back more Preds,” Oscar said back.

“Yes. Preds who want to leave that place. Leaving their entire lives behind because they can’t stand them anymore.”

“But you have a broken collar, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding as I did so. “You don’t have a collar, thank god, and while mine is fixed I know that I have to be careful. I never go too far away from my friends and allies in the city and never do any of those things you want to do. I know that I have to behave while in a fixed collar, and I have to be very careful whenever I’m out in the public.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I just talked over him.

He needed to hear all of this.

“You’re a child, and you might act out by accident and draw attention to yourself, which means you’ll be taken away and given a real collar at the very least. At the very worst, they could check mine too, collar us again and throw us both into jail! That means I’d be locked in a cell, unable to see anyone and slowly going mad for the rest of my life while you’d spend years in a juvie that would chew you up and fry you to ashes before breakfast! You’ve got to realise, I can’t let that happen to you!”

Oscar stood back, silent as he blinked with thought. I noticed he still held the collar in his paws, curiously fiddling with it in his pads. “What if I don’t have a fixed collar on. What if…”

“NO!” I shouted out, in unison with my father. I turned to Oscar, pulled the collar from his paws and stuffed it back in its box, before dragging him out.

“Listen,” I said. “I know you’re bored with this town. And Zootopia sounds like this crazy, awesome city where Pred and Prey get on in harmony and sit around a campfire singing kumbaya! BUT IT’S NOT!!! Your Granddad risked almost everything bar his very life, though that’s debatable, to make this town possible! Maybe I should find someone off a fresh boat to tell you how dreadful it really is!”

Oscar just looked away and huffed, before loosening his paws from mine and stropping off back to our house, leaving me to look back at my own Dad.

“Trust me,” he said. “Back when you were young, before the bank incident, I hoped that I could help make Zootopia work, for us, too. It took that last hammer blow to make me realise that it isn’t worth saving. Even if the dream behind it really was pure, it’s just not worth it.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But how do I make Oscar realise that without hurting him?”

“He’ll grow out of it,” Dad replied. “He’ll grow out of it…”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

“Dad…”

“Hey Oscar,” I said, not looking up from the needlework I was doing. It had been a few hours since Oscar had been shown his Grandma’s collar, and after lunch I’d settled down to do some work.

“You know you won’t let me back to Zootopia.”

“Yes….” I sighed, annoyed that we’d be going through all this again. “Not until you’re at least eighteen, and can be trusted. That’s the way it’s going to be, because I love you too much to let you wear a shock collar…”

“Really?” he asked. “They’re not that bad.”

I scowled, putting down the clothes I was mending. “You do realise how offensive that is to those of us who had to wear those things?”

“It’s really not that bad,” he said again, and I felt my teeth grind against each other in annoyance.

“Really?” I asked, turning around to face him. “How on earth do…..”

.

I couldn’t finish the sentence.

.

The words just froze inside of me, as my pulse stopped and my blood ran icy cold.

.

Oscar just stood there, shrugging, with the ghastly green glow of a working collar strapped around his neck.

.

“It’s really not that bad,” he said again. “No different to a watch really.”

.

“Oscar…” I said, my voice struggling to be anything more than a whisper. I was too struck with terror, and too scared to do anything that might hurt him, to do anything else. “You… You…”

“I thought it couldn’t be that bad, so I tried it on,” he replied back, smiling as he did so.

“You STUPID BOY!” I hissed, waving at him with my paws as I spoke. “You stupid, stupid boy! Stay right there, DO NOT MOVE, while I’ll go, grab a key and then take that _thing_ off of you. You hear me…?”

.

Oscar just blinked a few times, confused.

.

“YOU HEAR ME!?”

.

…. _beep…._

.

The quiet sound of the collar warming up to orange was like an old nightmare returning. It echoed around the room, and I couldn’t help but notice how my whole body was trembling.

.

“Cool,” he observed, though there as a hint of nervousness in his voice. “So, it’s orange now, and if I get too crazy it goes red. Doesn’t it?”

.

“Oscar… Stay still,” I carefully ordered as I began making my way to the door.

.

“How much do you have to do to get zapped anyway?” he asked.

.

I ignored him. Already I was at the door, almost tearing it off its hinges as I opened it to step out, only to hear the beating of pads on the floor. I turned, my mouth trembling half open, as I saw Oscar doing some start jumps.

“ONE, TWO, THREE!” he shouted, sounding terrifyingly excited. “ONE, TWO…”

.

I opened my mouth to scream at him to stop…

.

But hearing the soft _Beep_ silenced me.

.

**ZIP…**

“YIP!” Oscar yelped, as his jumping stopped and his paw shot up to massage the area the collar had struck at. My previous anger vanished as I surged forward and took him up in my arms, holding him tight. Not wanting to let go.

.

“…. That…. That hurt…” he said slowly.

“Yes,” I said back. “And that’s why I didn’t want you to touch that thing! You understand now?”

“Yeh… it… it…. I wasn’t even doing anything bad,” he observed. “Just doing a little exercise…”

“I know,” I replied softly nuzzling my cheek into his.

“What… What if there were bullies after you… or…”

“You had to learn to not be scared, however cruel they were, and to keep calm. Even when your body was urging you to do otherwise,” I said from almost forgotten experience. “Either that, or the bullies had a new best friend…”

“I… I…” he stuttered, before gulping. “I don’t want to go to Zootopia anymore.”

“Okay, son,” I replied, as I pulled back to look at him, spotting his big amber eyes misting over with tears. “Stay here, and I’ll get a key from the town hall and get that thing off you.”

“Right…” he said. “But can you please hurry. It… I really don’t want it on anymore…! I really want it off now!”

“Just hang on in there” I said, already not liking how scared he was beginning to sound. “Stay calm, and…”

.

_…Beep…_

.

“DADDY!”

.

**…ZIP…**

.

“OSCAR!” I turned back to see his paws on his collar, desperately trying to tug and tear it off, but only irritating the anti-tamper device inside even more.

.

**…ZAP!!!!!!**

.

I felt my heart break as the full-blown shock tore through his body, his limbs buckling before they collapsed. I rushed forward to cradle him in my arms, holding him tight as if it could somehow save him…

.

**ZAP!**

.

Another shock tore through him, and I felt a soft but harsh surge of electricity filter through me too. He screamed, a loud blood curdling one rather than his previous ‘yips’ and yelps’, before descending into heart wrenching sobs from the pain.

“NICK!!!”

I hardly noticed the call of my own dad, too focussed on Oscar, his tears flowing down his muzzle and onto my shoulder, where they met my own.

“NICK! I THINK OSCAR…” he yelled, as he raced into the house and set his eyes on us. “OH GOD!”

“GET THE KEY!” I yelled back, not even opening my eyes, yet alone turning to face him. Later on, I’d be thankful that he’d come at that time, able to retrieve the key given that I was unable to leave Oscar alone. But in the present, all I could focus on was trying to stop the torture my son was being subjected to, my failure to do so piercing my heart like an icicle.

“Dad… Daddy… I… I…” **…ZAP!...** “AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

His scream just made me hold him in tighter.

Closer…

Safer…

“You’ve got to stop messing with it!” I said, but Oscar was too struck with fear to notice. One of his paws was at his collar, fixed around it as it clawed and tugged at it, trying to tear it off.

.

_…BEEP…_

_._

**ZAAAPPPP!!!!!!!!**

.

I gritted my teeth and rode through the two second shock, even as Oscar’s desperately kicking legs tore into my shirt and clawed at my chest. I ignored the cold stab of the cuts, my blood flowing out, instead hurt by how much pain Oscar was in. His hot tears poured down me. His screams tore through the room.

.

… _Beep…_

.

My eyes opened, and I pushed my paw up beneath his collar, right below the shocking unit.

.

**ZAP!!!!**

.

“AAAAARGHHHH!!!! SHIT!” I screamed, feeling the white-hot current burning through my hand. My eyes closed, I panted as I noticed the cold pricks of metal touching the skin on the top of my paw, the fur far too thin to properly insulate against the collars wrath.

.

**ZAP!!!!!**

.

There was a second shock, and I felt my body jolt as another nail of pain was hammered through my palm. The whole paw twitched and ached, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Not until the collar was off my son.

.

**ZIP!**

.

I only winced at the light shock, and sighed in relief as the light finally went back down to orange. Oscar’s face was still up against my chest, my shirt moist with his tears. His whole body heaved with sobs and cries, and he made a few sounds as if he was trying to speak, only for it to descend into a weak mumbling.

“It’s okay.” I said, moving my other paw up to gently stroke his head. “It’s Okay…”

.

“Daddy…”

“Yes Son…”

“I… I… I’m sorry… I’m…”

“Don’t worry. I forgive you. You did something stupid, but it’s okay… It’s Okay…”

.

.

“Daddy…. I… I don’t want to go to Zootopia ever….”

“That’s fine by me…”

.

“Why… why did the Prey do this to us…?”

.

“They… They’re scared of us… And scared mammals can do terrible things… You know how I put my paw under the collar to protect you, even though it hurt me far more than you…”

“Yes. I-I’m sorry. You didn’t need to do that, Dad…”

“I did,” I said back, before I pulled my head back to look at him. He looked up with me, with red bloodshot eyes, and I leant in to kiss him. “Because I love you, and I want to protect you. Even if it hurts me more than you. And these Prey, they think we’re dangerous, so they put us in the collars, which doesn’t hurt them at all, to protect those they love.”

.

“But… But, why are they scared of us…?”

.

“Because thousands of-”

.

“I Know we used to eat them!” Oscar said, forcing it through his sobs. There was a harsh _Beep_ of his collar, but looking over I sighed with relief when I saw it had only gone up to orange.  “But I’d never eat someone!”

“I know…”

“But… Why don’t the prey just listen to us?” he asked. “We don’t want to eat or hurt them. We… We don’t need to be zapped…. Why don’t they listen to us…?”

.

.

“I don’t know son,” I said, as I hugged him in tight and began crying all over again. “I don’t know, I’ve never know….”


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38:**

.

23.00 hours. Zootopia central hospital.

.

“Evening Ramsay, graveyard shift again?” A nurse said as she left the building. Ramsay, dressed in his uniform, just nodded as he walked the other way.

“As usual…”

The nurse waved back, and was then gone from sight as Ramsay entered in and turned down a familiar corridor. Away from the murmuring and noises of the A&E department, which from a cursory glance Ramsay could see was filled up as usual. He weaved through crowds of other nurses and doctors going the other way, his pace quickening, until he turned and entered the main briefing room.

“Nurse Jack!”

“Mr Roam… Sorry I’m late sir,” the mule quietly replied, his head hung low as he avoided looking at the head nurse, a particularly impatient Buffalo who had a hatred of tardiness.

“Sorry doesn’t excuse yourself!” he growled back, before slowly marching up to Ramsay, his nostrils flaring.

“Yes sir…”

“And as a nurse, people RELY ON YOU!”

“… yes sir…”

“You know what I do to tardy nurses?”

Ramsay looked up, tugging his shirt collar nervously. “I… Sir, it was only a few minutes…”

“Which means you won’t be docked a paygrade for now…”

“Thank you, sir.”

“However, I have got half a mind of putting you on pad changing duties… Give me ONE reason why I shouldn’t.”

Ramsay gulped, before speaking. “We all know that this is peak time for Preds, particularly pensioners from the nocturnal district, to come up via the elevators. At the same time, it’s a Friday night so we’ll be getting plenty of drunks getting injured. A and E is already full, and big drunk Prey and old infirm Preds do not mix well. Pad changing can wait, but dishing out the correct stocks of medicines and treatments can’t…”

.

“Patient first focus, I see,” the head nurse replied, mulling over the words as he said them. “Very well, but consider yourself lucky! You understand?”

“Yes sir!”

“And DON’T be late again! Or else!”

“Trust me sir,” Ramsay replied. “If I ever turn up late again, you can put me on collar duty for a week.”

The head nurse paused, looking at Ramsey as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard, before shrugging and accepting it. “Fine, but I’ll hold you to account for that. And don’t blame me if your mental health goes on the fritz…” And at that the head nurse turned away, shuddering as he thought about all that entailed. Ramsay meanwhile turned, and began making his way to his station.

Through corridors.

Upstairs.

Waiting in lifts and falling in line with rows of other nurses and doctors, weaving through the great complex.

He headed towards his station, though he just took a round-about path to visit some sites on the way.

.

“If you’re wondering, TT,” Ramsey whispered when they were finally alone, “Collar duty is fitting collars to young cubs, as well as replacing old or broken ones and taking them off to do check-ups… If you’re in a little clinic, you have it few and far between, enough for you to believe all the ‘just to be safe’ crap. But if you’re taking away a dozen peoples freedom an hour, or giving them a little taste of it just to claw it back moments later… You’re either a Pred hating monster, or you need one hell of a stiff drink afterwards…”

“Sounds rough,” came a soft whisper from inside the mule’s uniform, before there was a wiggle and a brown head emerged. “Though I was actually planning on commenting on what would have been a rather annoying impediment to our plans.”

“Pad changing duty certainly would put a spanner in the works,” Ramsey replied.

“Yup, after all that planning, certainly would be a crap way for all this to end…”

.

Ramsay’ eyelids just lowered, and an annoyed frown appeared on his face. “How long were you…”

“Ever since he said Pad duty,” Tattletail interrupted, before giving an evil little snicker. “I’d make a joke about that head nurse too, but his parents already have it covered.”

.

“Can you explain that one?”

.

“His name was Mr Roam,” Tattletail stated. “You called him that, didn’t you?”

.

“Yes, I still don’t…”

.

“And he’s a Buffalo.”

.

“A Buffalo called Roam?” Ramsay asked. “I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“Seriously!?” Tattletail replied incredulously, “Buffalo… Roam… Where the Buffalo Roam!”

“… No…” the mule replied, with a shrug added in after. “You’ve lost me. And a lost nurse coming up, so back in you go!”

Before Tattletail could protest, a hoof came down on him from above and pushed him back down into the pocket he was stowed away in. As he was hidden away from view, Ramsay carefully neatened up his uniform and looked up at the confused looking Impala up ahead, just as he spotted him coming.

“Hey, can you direct me to Preydiatrics…”

“Down two flights of stairs, there should be some toilets, the signs will direct you from there,” Ramsey effortlessly replied.

“Thanks…” the nurse replied, before pausing as he looked at Ramsay. “Are you…”

“A mule! Yes! Half Donkey, half Horse. Nothing to see here!” Ramsey immediately replied, rattling out the words as fast as he could.

“… Cool,” the impala muttered, before he turned to walk off to his station.

.

.

.

“It’s safe,” Ramsay said after a dozen seconds or so.

“Preydiatrics…,” Tattletail immediately started. “Tell me you can’t see the animal pun in that!? What is it with this city and animal puns?”

.

“It’s not an animal pun,” Ramsey carefully explained. “It’s for predation wounds. Bite marks. Claws marks…”

“Ouch…”

“Trust me, it’s the best place to work in this hospital,” the mule said reassuringly. “Politicians put it in decades ago, one of those old flash policies to win a few extra votes, and touching it is a major vote looser, even if they get less than one patient a day…”

“Sounds like a good gig,” the little Rodent commented.

“Of course, the managers know this so put you on collar duty the day after,” Ramsey clarified, “and having to take a faulty collar off a poor, screaming pup only to put a new one back on after… Totally not worth it.”

.

“Thanks for the levity,” Tattletail said quietly, taking the time to peek himself out from Ramsey’s pocket again. “Now, back to our societies fixation with pun names… I’ll ignore your one…”

“My one?”

“Yes, your one Mr Jack, and head straight to the murky world of celebrities, particularly music, where EVERYONE has a pun name.”

“Not everyone,” Ramsey replied, “what about Matt Stevens?”

.

“…Who?”

.

“You know, the one who converted to Islamb and changed his name…”

“Who?” Tattletail asked again. “And shall I bring up how an entire religion name is an animal pun.”

“Well, you could,” Ramsay said, shrugging. “But still, Matt Stevens… whose song ‘Father and Son’ was used in the final scene of Guardians of the Galaxy two by the way…”

“Isn’t that the space film with the Racoon who was abducted from earth and now calls himself Starlord, the resurrected slash bio-engineered hairless ape called Rocket and the latter’s talking tree monster… friend… thing?”  Tattle asked, to which Ramsay nodded.

“It is, it also isn’t an animal pun, is it? In any case, Matt Stevens isn’t one either?”

.

“It’s not,” Tattletail conceded. “But it’s cancelled out by the whole Islamb business…”

“Then there’s Steppen Bruce.”

“You mean the guy who did born to be wild? I’d say the song…”

“Deaf Leonard, famous for ‘pour some sugar on me’. The Regales, aka the ones who release Hotel Califurnia. And, if you remember the song ‘Fireflies’ which was on the radio years back, released by Towel city. Then there’s the song ‘sex on fire’, released by the very non-animal pun named Kings of Neon…”

“Okay,” Tattletail conceded. “I admit…”

“Cage the Elegance…”

“No rest for the wicked,” the now annoyed rodent muttered.

“The manageable’s…”

“Who?!”

“The ones who did house of the rising sun.”

“Never heard of them.”

“They’re in the Rock and Roll hall of fame! Anyway, no animal pun there. Also, the Two Mens… The Two Mens league…”

“OKAY! You WIN!” Tattletail wailed, his paws out and clutching the air as Ramsey just looked down at him, smirking.

“Thank you. Anyway, we’re here.” Ramsey announced, as he halted just in front of a large door. Through windows built in the side, both mammals could spot racks of computers at work, their lights on and fans humming.

“Thanks.” Tattletail said, as he scurried out of the inside pocket and dropped down to the floor with a thud. Looking around, Ramsey discretely leant to one side and pressed down on the handle, pushing the door slightly ajar and letting his Water vole companion enter. “Easy parts over,” he commented, before Ramsay closed the door and marched off to his station, now knowing that there was no turning back.

 .

.

* * *

 

.

.

23.10. Elkway road.

.

“I presume Kozlov has fulfilled his side of the operation?”

“The Don Kozlov has arranged it, da.” Raymond agreed, as he flicked his indicator up and turned off the main road and towards a large multi-storey carpark that rose up against the side of the hospital. Riding shotgun next to him was Nick, the fox rattling his claws against the leather as he stayed his nerves. Despite his planning, effort and confidence, he (and no other sane person) couldn’t help but be worried now that zero hour was upon him.

“Remember, we don’t begin drilling until we get the text for Tattletail. We don’t want to leave a heap of evidence, and then find out the whole plan is bust.”

“Raymond is not impatient moron.” The huge polar bear muttered, as the refrigerated limo began climbing the tight carpark ramp. Around and around, past filled up car decks until they halted at a set of large warning signs, stating that the upper floors were closed.

“Better word would be reserved,” Nick said, as he hopped out of the limo and moved the signs out of the way. He watched the limo continue forward past him, before placing the signs back and following. Raymond had already parked the car by a large concrete wall, where a stubborn piece of graffiti marked their drilling site. His pursuit of coolness suspended for this night only, Nick ran across the empty parking lot, his pads pounding against the hard top. Even so, by the time he reached Raymond the bear was already out, and unloading a heavy set of industrial drills, a bucket of cooling water and bolt cutters, ready for the next stage.

“Now, we wait.”

“Yes, Raymond,” Nick managed to say between his deep, strained pants. “Now we wait.”

“Let us hope, for no distractions….”

“Let us hope,” Nick replied. “Anyway, what’s the worst spanner fate could throw in our works?”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

23.15. ZPD precinct 1.

.

Deep in the ZPD Judy was nursing a pot of coffee, her third for the night as she carried on with her work. Scanning through the jam cams, she had a large notebook out, alongside her diary, and was filtering through information and documents, trying to gleam something, anything about the mysterious Nicholas Vulpes.

Throughout it all, she couldn’t help glance back to the picture of Woolly’s ‘conspiracy board’, before looking back to her own. “What did he see that I didn’t,” she mused, before she looked back to her latest tit-bit of information. A report from thirteen years ago, about a fox who was acting ‘savage’ on the subway. While it had been brushed off as just another Pred hater, a few witnesses had commented about how the foxes collar seem to not be working.

.

“Still nothing…” the bunny slurred, as she pushed away the report and turned back to her diary. Holding a pen in her hand, she doodled slightly in the margin but didn’t have the heart to write another entry. “Nothing much to write about…”

.

_Ping…._

.

“Well, let’s see where our favourite limo is now…”

With the discovery of Woolly’s picture of Mr Vulpes, and Bogo’s permission, Judy had been able to do a search on the limo that the Fox had been seen in on that night, one that was worryingly run by a key member of the polar bear mafia. Setting up a tracking program had been easy, but nothing had come up from it until now.

“See, I knew you would be useful,” Judy said to herself, as she brought up a picture of the limo on Elkway road, navigating around the camera’s until she got a good glance at the passenger side window. Zooming in, a grin grew on her face as she made out a familiar fox’s face. Pressing the spacebar and looking on, Judy held her breath as she watched the car turn off into a car park, spiralling up several ramps before pausing. “What are you…” she began, only to stop as the limo continued its climb, onto what looked like a closed off level, its lights all blacked out.

.

“And Oates said this would be pointless,” Judy said, smirking at herself. Leaning over to her diary, she wrote three words ‘Bagging a Fox’, before circling them and jumping off her seat. Immediately she reached for her radio, clicking it on and reporting back to the chief dispatch officer.

“This is junior detective Hopps, over. Going to investigate a possible lead, may have to call backup at a later time. Please notify all officers around Elkway road.”

“Over…” barked the mammal on the other side, as Judy quickly threw on her clothes and her utility belt. She silently cursed to herself for forgetting to buy some new Fox-rep, while also misplacing her dart gun. Even so, she grabbed her tazer, did a quick equipment check before she began marching out to the garage.

“You were lucky twice Mr Vulpes,” she said out loud. “But for me, third time is the charm.”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

23.20. Zootopia central hospital, security centre.

.

.

In the towers of wiring and computers, handling the security system for the hospital, a Water vole was busy at work. Scurrying around the perimeter of the units, he went from ethernet cable to ethernet cable, careful to cut each one.

.

His ears twitched as a harsh error bleep came from the access terminal at the centre of the room, alarmed that one of the electronic tendrils that connected it to the rest of the hospital had been severed. Tattletail initially hadn’t give the interconnected nature of the system any piece of mind, instead planning on the traditional infect and leave approach. A concerned talk from one of the mules, he could not remember whether it was Stanley and Neville, had raised the issue that an infection would likely spread from here and corrupt vital data filed and other critical information.

Tattletail was a much too carefree mammal to ever want the potential of causing the deaths of innocents to be a result of his activities, so a simple round with a trusty pair of scissors was added to his plans. Coming up to the final cable, he slid the scissors around the plastic casing and, with a flick of a switch, watched as it came down and sliced through it, exposing ends wires of copper inside that were as thick as the claws on his little finger.  A quick survey around to confirm the amputation was complete, and he darted off towards a central console. Leads connecting it to the surrounding hard drives spilled out from it like braids of hair, and he scurried up one to the mouse pad, where he set his eyes on its resident input device.

“No… I still don’t get that fetish,” he muttered to himself, as he bent down to place two paws on the medium to large mammal scaled mouse, which was large enough to come up to his knees. A quick shove, and the work station was bathed in light as the nearby computer monitor. Looking up, he sighed with relief as he spotted it loading straight up to the central screen.

“No need to mess around with passwords again…” he said, as he marched over to the nearby computer, clawing into the plastic rib-work of its front as he climbed upwards to a usb port. He looked down at the keyboard, unable to smile with the satisfaction that it wouldn’t hinder him this time, before he unslung a USB drive that he’d had slung over his shoulder like a rifle and pushed it in…

.

“Oh come on!” he cursed, as he pulled the drive out, flipped it around and tried to push it in again, only to curse some more as it stubbornly refuse. “Of course…” he muttered, as he pulled it out, flipped it back into its original position and this time slid it in.

.

Jumping back down onto the table, he grabbed the mouse and strained as he lifted it up from the ground, the laser pointer on its base up in sky. Waddling carefully, he managed to move it to the other side on the mousepad before his fingers gave way, losing their purchase on the slippery plastic and letting it slide to the floor.

“Why don’t I make a remote mouse thing as part of my USB drive?”

His rhetorical question remained unanswered, as he pushed the mouse so that the cursor hovered over the pop-up that had appeared. A few good downward kicks on the left button, and the USB drive file appeared, two run-me programs and a huge file of images present. Some more manoeuvring, and the first was open, a quick run screen appearing and disappearing, all the confirmation needed for the rodent to know that the system well and truly was isolated.

Back to the mouse he went, pushing it slightly so it aligned with the second program.

His finger raised in the air and twirling, he brought it down and gave the mouse two prim little clicks.

.

And he smiled in glee as a new screen of computer code appeared, flickering up as it ran. All around him, hundreds of hard drives began whirring as past security footage was burned off, orders to record the current feed were deleted, and a massive selection of pornography took its place. Looking back to the folder, Tattletail’s mouth piqued as he went back to the mouse, pushing the cursor so that it hovered over the file.

.

_Ping…_

.

In a flash, the second run-me program vanished like the first, its work complete. Tattletail looked up at the file, down again, back up and down again before shaking his head. “Not the time, too risky,” he told himself, as he walked over to his drive, jumped up, and pulled it out of the computer, landing on his back in an ungainly fashion.

Out of one of his trouser pockets he brought a large cell-phone, as large in his paws as a larger mammal’s smart phone, but able to do little more than send calls and text. “The sooner they finally work out how to shrink those down the better,” was all he could say, as he typed in a pre-arranged code and pressed send.

Glancing around, checking everything was clear, he pulled out a little gun, fired a hook at the ceiling before shooting up towards a waiting air vent.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

23.30. Zootopia central hospital. Storage room B12.

“Evening,” Ramsey said, as he moved into the store room. All around him were the vast racks of medicines that were often dispensed to the various departments of the building.

“Gather up some penicillin,” the rooms other occupant, a rather tubby tapir ordered. “We’ve got ten patients recovering from minor operations who the ward managers want to discharge to free up some space.”

“What species.”

“No awkward ones,” the Tapir said, and Ramsey thought he felt him linger on that bit, his eyes linger on the ‘awkward one’ who’d just walked into the room. “Most are size L2, though we have two M1’s”

Ramsey just nodded and turned away, shaking his head at what could have been his own paranoia in action just then. He was used to it, and he didn’t really care. It was much more welcome than if he’d dropped a reference to a certain Artic Shrew, and a number of large loans, that was for sure. Looking through the vials of medicine and racks of tablets, he picked up eight large packets of antibiotic, the doses large enough for very large mammals like Hippo’s, Rhino’s, some draft horses and Polar bears. The only things larger were Elephants and Giraffe’s, who comprised most of the ‘awkward ones’ that they usually dealt with. Then came the ones for the smaller medium mammals, which could be bunnies or some of the smaller Fox species. It was never a perfect fit, but it did its job, and Ramsey was just glad that he only had to deal with six main size classes, with the four segregated small ones mainly dealt with my Little Rodentia central. To a big mammal like him, an SS1 and SS4 could easily be mixed up, but given the sizes involved giving an Etruscan shrew medicine meant for a Guinea pig would be like giving a Bunny medicine for a Bison.

“Sooner rather than later,” the Tapir huffed, and Ramsay dutifully responded, delivering the pills. As he did so, he felt the rumble of his phone buzzing. As the tapir took the pills, Ramsay opened his phone up, glanced at the text and then closed it. Patting the small box of laxatives in his coat, he smiled and faced his workmate.

“I was thinking of getting a coffee, want one?”

“Thought you’d never ask…”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

23.45. Alexander Lemming memorial carpark.

.

“Nikolai! Water, now!”

“Right away Raymond,” Nick replied, grabbing a jerrycan of water from the back of the limo and carrying it forward. The text from Tattletail had come through less than ten minutes ago, and already Raymond had been busy drilling holes in a circle around the graffiti mark. The huge drill he carried glowed red hot from its work, while the water in the bucket was now warm. Emptying it out, Nick poured the cooling water into it as Raymond lowered the drill, the metal hissing and spitting like a furious cat.

“Bit more, then I think it time for final push,” Raymond commented, with Nick nodding in agreement.

“I’ll attach the tow rope to the limo then?”

“Da!” the bear replied as he lifted up the drill, placed it against the concrete wall and began drilling once more. Nick, meanwhile, hurried on back to the limo, retrieving a thick steel cable from the back. Hitching it around a reinforced tow-point at the back, he grabbed the other end around his shoulder and ran it back to Raymond, just as the bear finished drilling his final hole.

“Da! Is nice,” he said, as he weaved the hooked end through one hole and then retrieved it through another on the opposite side of the circle. Hooking it tight, he waved to Nick and they both retreated to the Limo.

.

Raymond fire up the engine, turned the wheel around, and moved forward. The mood inside was tense, thick enough to be cut with a knife, and as the car jolted to a halt, the cable behind it pulling tight, it only got tenser.

“Cross fingers Nikolai! Here we go!”

The roar of the engine rose, the whole vehicle straining and creaking as the driver took his foot off the clutch. The rev-meter red lining, there was a squeal as the wheels began to skid.

.

THUD!!!!!

.

Raymond and Nick were jolted back into the seats as the limo charged forwards, the former quickly slamming his foot on the brakes to stop them flying off the edge of the car park. Nick looked up at him, too nervous to speak, as he slowly turned the limo around to face their hole…

“It’s… open…” Nick said, with a sigh of relief as he saw the missing chunk of wall, and the silvery metal of the ventilation duct behind it. “Pull us right up, Ray. Tattletail should be here any time now.”

.

By the time they arrived back by the wall, sparks were already flying out of it. As Raymond parked the car, Nick got up and casually walked to the wall, leaning against it and holding his paw up as if he were inspecting his claws, all in time for the sparks to stop and the clatter of metal to ring out.

“I do not see Nick in front of me… While I am glad he hasn’t brought a swivel chair to do the old, ‘I meet you at least’ thing, I assume he’s standing to the side trying to look cool.”

“No, Tattletail,” Nick replied as he stood up and walked in front of the rodent, “I was standing to the side being cool.”

“Raymond?” the Water Vole asked. “Sit rep?”

The polar bear poked his head out of the limo and just shrugged. “I guess Nikolai was cool. Sort of.”

Nick let a smug grin grow across his muzzle as he turned to face Tattletail. “Deal with it, T.T…”

The water vole just scowled. “Can I have a second opinion? Anyone?”

“I’d say I’m also dapper, but that would be downgrading it from a fact.”

Tattletail just rolled his eyes and turned away, rapping his foot claws against the ventilation tube as Nick retrieved a perfectly scaled mini-van from the limo. He placed it down in the vent next to Tattletail, and threw him the keys.

“How far is it?”

“Not far,” the rodent replied. “Should be able to carry your list in one van load, so twenty-minute round trip max.

“Okay,” Nick replied with a wave. “Hurry back.”

“I will.”

There was a click of a key, and the whirr of an electric motor, before Tattletail set off down the ducts and out of view.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

00.00 hours. Elkway road.

.

 Judy carefully parked up her car, remembering from her meter maid experience back at the start of her career to pay a hefty figure into the nearest meter.

“If I were mayor… I’d allow you to put as much as you wanted in, then refund any leftovers at the end,” she said, sighing as another quarter was placed into the slot, bringing it up to the maximum. Looking up, shot spotted the multi-storey carpark where Nicholas Tuc Vulpes was up to something, and her eyes narrowed with determination.

“Dispatch, Officer Hopps, over…” she called into her radio, her ears rising as she heard the voice from the other side.

“Officer Hopps, this is dispatch. Just a warning, slight issue with the planned changing of the shifts. My replacement hasn’t arrived, and I may be required to excuse myself from this position in the not too distant future.”

“Understood, go ahead dispatch. Will approach position in the meantime. Over.”

“Over…”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

00.05 hours. Zootopia central hospital. Storage room B12.

.

“Yes, one weeks’ worth of Amlodipine for a lion.” Ramsey said, moving the drugs over to the waiting porter. “Over to Doctor Stripes… He’s in the walk-in clinic, isn’t he?”

“Yeh,” the junior replied. “Saw him looking after this really fritzy lion, looked like he’d been earning himself a good number of shocks and decided to come to us to patch it up! I know we’re not supposed to discriminate, but people with such cheek should get a few delays at least, don’t you think?”

Ramsey just looked at the medicine in question, remembering his training, and gulping at the implication. “I think that kind of judgement is best left to us professionals” he replied, before pushing the medicine into the porter’s arms and shooing him on his way. Finally left in privacy, he shook his head at the whole sorry affair. As always, a part of him gnawed away, telling him that he was failing in his duty as a medic.

“Never mind,” he said to himself. “Soon you’ll be able to help away as much as you like, and none of this hypocrisy forced upon you”. Still though, some part of him knew that he’d be fleeing, and the suffering would still be going on regardless.  “Too late to get out of you hole now though, isn’t it Ramsey?”

With that, the mule grabbed out a piece of paper in his paws and walked over to the stocks. A vial here. A batch of tablets there. Slowly slipping the required items into spare drawer and hiding them away. Going down, his eyes rested on one last final item. It was written in bold red letters, twice as thick as the black biro everywhere else and circled for emphasis. He couldn’t help but feel a grim sense of dread as he looked at it. Moving to the back of the store, he fished around and brought out the requested item

“Distemper shots,” he read out loud, before placing it with the rest. His job so far complete, he reclined back on his chair, his eyes resting for a second on an unassuming cup of half-drunk coffee, before they rose up to a vent. A soft smile grew across his muzzle as he felt his phone vibrate.

“It’s clear!” he shouted, as he moved over to the door and locked it.

_Bang… Bang…_

One of the grills vibrated, and Ramsey got up, screwdriver in hand, to begin opening it. A quick twist of the four screws, and the grill fell, revealing Tattletail behind.

“So that’s how you mono-hoofed guys can hold things like screwdrivers!” he commented, as Ramsey bent down and gathered up as many of the drugs as he could, rapidly placing them into the grill.

“Not the time,” Ramsay muttered, as he brought up a second batch and then a third. “Someone could come at any time. Let me just get everything in there, screw that thing up, and leave you to it!

“Fair enough,” the water vole muttered in response. “But still, it’s so patently obvious it’s ludicrous that I didn’t just realise it before!”

“To be fair I get that a lot,” Ramsey muttered in agreement, as he pushed the last load into the vent space and then reached for the grate, pushing the screws in and loosely tightening them with his hoofs. “And compared to having no fine digit movement and an inability to grasp things, it’s a piece of cake dealing with a few mammals kicking themselves for their own stupidity.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Tattletail agreed, as he watched Ramsay pick up a screwdriver and fully fasten the bolts from the other side. Looking up, he saw the bolts being tightened back to their original state, before his eyes settled on both the stolen goods and the van he would have to put them in. “My first retirement years wasted playing Tetris, time to prove yourself useful!”

And at that, he got to work.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

00.05 hours. Alexander Lemming memorial carpark.

.

As Judy reached the closed level, she reached for her radio. Turning it on, she rose it up to her mouth before speaking in a hushed breath. “Officer Hopps. Over.”

“This is dispatch. Over.” Came a new voice, different to the previous one she’d been in contact with. Judy silently acknowledge this, before sneaking over to the nearby door and pushing it open. Peeking out into the murky darkness of the parking deck, she focussed on the pair of bright headlights nearby, coming from a still idling car. Leaning out further, her eyes widened as she spotted the open wound in the building behind.

“What in the…” she muttered, before sneaking back behind cover and raising her radio. “Hopps, over. Two suspects have been spotted, undertaking highly suspicious activity. I will confront, over.”

“Hopps, the supervisor stated that he put nearby officers on high alert. Do you want me to call assistance?”

“I’m good thanks,” Judy replied. “Though if I radio for support, send immediately. Over.”

“Over.”

Steeling her nerves, holstering her radio and pulling out her Taser, Judy took a deep breath before leaving the safety of the staircase and stepping out into the open. Her back bending as he hunkered down low, she stalked towards the bear and Mr Vulpes, the soft wind in her face, before she stood out in the open.

“Mr Vulpes!” she called, catching both predators attention. “You’re certainly an interesting character, aren’t you?”

Nick gulped, his eyes on the threatening weapon, before he looked up at Judy, his famous smirk returning to his face. “Glad you could agree.”

“Cut the crap!” the bunny shouted. “First you assault a goat, then you kidnap orphans, and now… What even are you doing!?”

“Occam’s razer suggests I’m hanging around a closed parking lot with a friend,” he calmly replied, his voice still dripping with charisma. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And that big hole!?” Judy accused.

Nick just feigned innocence, his paw raised to his heart as he swooned. “Is the police fascism of this day and age so great that a private citizen cannot stand by a hole, minding his own business? You understand this is an assault on everyone’s right to stand by holes. I mean, even you could be standing by a hole, appreciating it’s…”

“OH, COME OFF IT!” Judy screamed. “You were targeted by Woolly, meaning you have to be up to something!”

“In your mind, yes.” Nick replied with a shrug. “I’m sure you’d think the same thing about any fox you’d meet.”

“HOW DARE YOU!” Judy seethed, holding her Taser up as she marched forward. “I’ve helped a Fox before you know? A vicious childhood bully who swallowed his pride and asked me for help. SO I CAN’T BE SPECIESIST! Unlike you, who thinks that I’m persecuting you just because I’m a Bunny and you’re a Fox!”

“What about I, Raymond?” The third mammal asked. His question remained unanswered, as Nick retorted.

“I probably am. Being a member of a species persecuted for centuries probably has given me a fair bit of speciesism. However, I am willing to accept I have it. You though, you _are_ the good guy. No way you can be anything other than perfect.”

“I wasn’t,” Judy muttered, “but I improved. I learned, and now I’m the good guy, just as you said. And I am going to have to take you in.”

“For what,” Nick asked with a shrug, “hurting your feelings?”

 “Probable cause,” Judy replied, gesturing to the hole in the wall. “There’s still dust around here, this was recent, and given how much of it is on your bear friend I’m pretty confident that he cut it. That’s vandalism for a start. Maybe you should just admit to what you did now, and make this easy for yourself…”

Nick piqued his muzzle and looked up to Raymond, before turning back to Judy. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, my friends need me. My people need me. And most importantly, my family need me. I’d be happy to turn up tomorrow though.”

Judy just huffed with disgust. “Your people? What are you, one of those Pred supremacists, the ones stirring up all these recent protests.”

“Sweetheart,” Nick retorted. “I think you’ll just find that’s ordinary mammals who don’t want to live their life wearing a life ruining torture device acting upon the news that the proof they never had to wear them was being buried!”

“If those things are true, then I’m sure we’ll see…” Judy began to say, before Nick interrupted her with a loud ‘AT-AT-AT…’ and a raised paw.

“As for Pred supremacist?” Nick said slowly, mulling over the words. “I think you’ll find I’m a Pred equalist at heart.”

“Preds are equal,” Judy retorted, only to back off as Nick burst into a fit of laughter.

“PA-HA-HA… OH RAYMOND! YOU HEAR THAT? We’re not second-class citizens, forced to wear a handicap or something… Oh thanks for informing me miss bunny-wabbit.”

“MY NAME IS JUNIOR DETECTIVE JUDY HOPPS,” Judy screamed, “And you are coming with me you extremists!”

Nick just shook his head and raised a finger in clarification. “Separatist… I think that’s probably more appropriate than equalists.

“Terrorists…”

“Freedom fight dear…”

“I am just mob goon for hire…”

.

“Turn around,” Judy ordered, “paws on your heads, and I will cuff you.”

.

The two just stood still, with Nick shaking his head.

.

“Three…” Judy warned.

 .

Nick just looked at Raymond and winked.

.

“Two…”

.

Raymond nodded in return.

.

“One…”

“NOW!!!”

Judy recoiled back as Raymond and Nick charged at her. In an instant, a surge of adrenaline kicked in and, raising her weapon, she took aim at the larger, more dangerous target, and fired.

_Fwooosh…. **BUZZZZZZ……..**_

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” the huge Ursine screamed, falling to his knees as the Taser current surged through his body, burning wherever it went. Raymond’s eyes were welded shut, his teeth gritted, as Judy held her weapon up and continued firing. A quick glance to her right, and she leapt up, planting her feet onto the underside of Nick’s muzzle in a brutal kick that sent the Fox tumbling the other way, dazed from the impact. She couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction at finally getting one up over the irritating fox, but that feeling was wiped out as she felt herself being catapulted forward. Turning back to face Raymond, her eyes opened in shock as she saw that he’d grasped the Taser wires in his paws and was pulling them towards her, trying to tear the weapon out of her very paws.

.

She would NOT let that happen. Her grip doubled, even as the force increased and increased.

.

Before she could register what was happening, her feet left the floor and she sailed up in an arc, before being swung down onto the hard-concrete floor with a sickening thud. She screamed in pain as her tail took the brunt of the impact, the shock loosening her grip just as Raymond, still shaking from the ongoing shocks, pulled back. The Taser flew from her hands in straight into Raymond’s paws. In a simple movement, he closed and released them, the tortured sound of snapping plastic coming from within. Judy could only look on with shock as the broken fragments of her weapon fell to the floor.

“Wha… Wha?” she said flabbergasted, as Raymond rose to his full height and stared daggers at her.

“Shooting Raymond with Taser, even one for lion, is very, very dumb move,” he growled, before his voice turned into a full-on roar. “Because NOW I AM MAD!” Raymond pounced, Judy barely skipping out of the way of his paws. Landing into a combat roll, she righted herself just in time to see Raymond turn to face her, ready for a second charge. Her gaze dropped down to Raymond’s collar, still shining green despite all the previous action.

.

It finally clicked.

.

“Your collars,” she said, her voice laced with a sudden primeval dread. “They’re…”

“KAPUTSKI!” Raymond yelled, his muzzle widening into a sadistic grin.

“I told you we were equalists, sweetheart!”

Judy turned to the side and gulped as she spotted Nick, coming in from another angle, every hair on his body standing tall and his long, sharp claws raised out for the battle. Her body was trembling.

.

She scanned her surroundings, trying to find any advantage in the surrounding parking area.

.

She focussed on the Limo, and her paw rested on the radio attached to her belt.

.

“WE CAN’T LET HER CALL BACKUP!” Nick yelled. Raymond lunged again, and Judy leapt forward. Her hindlegs catapulted her into a combat roll, and the whole world turned into a blur. She spotted a great mass of white fur sailing above her, before she shot out from under it. Tumbling onto her side, she was hammered by a set of bumps as she bounced across the hardtop, before she slid underneath the Limo.

.

“Oh…. God…” Judy managed to say, between her thick pants. Quickly scanning around, and checking all was clear, she reached for her radio, just as the protective roof over her head lifted up. A look over her shoulder, and Judy spotted Raymond lifting the entire back end of the vehicle up.

.

As she looked forward, a red dart was already lunging after her, her radio torn out of her paws. Reflexes taking action, her legs kicked back away from it, launching her backwards away from the danger. It was only as she saw the giant white legs either side of her that she realised that she’d jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

Before he could do anything, Judy leapt back onto her two feet, crouched down as she wound up the energy in them and then launched herself upwards. Her ears down, the crown of her head impacted right between the bears legs and he screamed with pain.

“ARRGGHHHHHHH!!!!”

Judy’s head screamed.

Her entire world spun from side to side.

But she was determined to press the advantaged. Before he could recover, Judy was behind him, running away then charging forwards, before leaping up with all the force of her legs and run-up behind her. Her legs out, she aimed for the back of one of his knees and put one hundred and ten percent into the kick.

She recoiled back, swinging around so that the soles of her feet touched the ground and she slid to a halt. Looking up, she saw Raymond collapse onto the knee that she’d buckled, one of his paws out to support him, and his muzzle vulnerable. She smiled a determined smile, and charged.

She kicked down, and flew once more with her feet in front of her.

They hit Raymond’s jaw, a brutal cross between a sideswipe and an upper cut, and she bounced off to the sound of shattering enamel and the groaning of a defeated mammal.

She backflipped, landing solidly on her feet, Raymond collapsing muzzle first into the ground in front of her.

“Hard part over!” She yelled, her whole body on edge with adrenalin. “Your turn now Mr….” Her voice trailed off as she saw Nick.

The Fox was on all fours, her radio in his teeth. He was tearing and biting at it like a savage mammal, and with one last crunch it shattered into a hundred useless fragments. He shook his head, and its entrails flailed out from his maw like disembowelled remains of prey. Feeling its destruction, he flicked his head and threw it out to one side, before turning to look at Judy and growling.

“I see your true nature finally made an appearance,” Judy said through her shakes. “Your savage instincts have taken over. You’re nothing more than a beast now, aren’t you! Can you even understand this, under all that bloodlust? Are you regretting not wearing your collar? Understanding, finally, how it’s for your own good?”

“Oh no, Judy,” Nick replied, his breaths deep and rhythmic as he stood back onto his hind legs. “I’m perfectly sane thank you. Always have been and always will be. Sorry I had to use my teeth back there, best way to destroy that pesky radio of yours, you see? I know that for a squeamish little dumb bunny like…”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Judy yelled, as she charged forward.

Nick gulped, shifted his body up into a fighting position, his paws out in front of him with his claws at the ready. Judy leapt, and his tensed legs jumped, pushing him out of her path while his paws sliced down to meet her. To cut her… If needed, to kill…

.

He was too slow.

.

Judy’s legged slammed into his shoulder, and a brutal snap followed.

“ARGGGHHH!!!!!” Nick screamed, clutching his dislocated shoulder as he spun to the floor, shaking as he tried to recover.

.

Judy just looked over at them, her surge of adrenalin still strong and her whole body shaking. Taking a quick gulp, feeling her scorched dry throat receiving some caressing relief, she looked over at the defeated mammals and smiled.

She grabbed her paw cuffs and spun them around, just wishing to take a few seconds to savour the great victory.

.

.

“I enjoyed your plum buster on Raymond you know?”

“WHAT!? WHO’S THERE!?” Judy yelled, as the sudden new voice, despite its high and almost innocent tone, rang out menacingly.

“But you could go further you know? I’ve previously inserted myself into about half a dozen animals who’ve tried to squish me. Now, it’s a bit icky… actually very icky… but when your inside of someone and biting them, it really rains on their parade…”

“I ORDER YOU TO SHOW YOURSELF! NOW!”

“Sadly, you’re too small… well, maybe not. It would be a dreadful squeeze though. And, to keep this all P.G. I’d have to take care which route I chose. The middle way in this case does have some major implications that I wouldn’t like to be burdened with…”

“IN THE NAME OF THE LAW! COME OUT NOW!”

.

“Okay, fine, Top of the Limo.”

Judy looked up, and her mouth almost hit the floor with confusion as she saw no-one there.

.

She heard a soft whirr, one of her ears rising, and then her right shin exploded in agony. Judy yelled as the world spun, before being silenced as her head slammed against the floor, biting her tongue in the process.

“Wha… Tha….” She muttered, before she felt a brutal slam hit her stomach, winding her. Looking down, her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted a small van impacted into her, the driver obscured by the windows.

“Gweat… A leest weezel…” she muttered through her lisp.

“Well,” came the voice from inside. “At least you didn’t call me Ratty…” And then Judy had to doubletake as she spotted a water vole, all decked out in heist gear, stepping out of it.

“You’re… Pwey…!?”

“Yes, a rare thing that.” Tattletail said with a shrug. “A prey mammal on the right side of history.”

“Oh for goodnezz zake…” Judy snarked, before recoiling as the vole leapt forwards, two fists leading, both of which landed straight into her eyes.

“AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!” she screamed, yelling as she clutched her throbbing eyes. Scrambling to her feet, she began racing around, before she felt herself impact something at knee height and fell forwards, landing painfully on her nose.

“Lemme guess? You trained so hard against guys bigger than you, you never tackled someone smaller.”

“Come her you…!” the Bunny yelled as she managed to open her eyes, making out her attackers blurring figure and readying herself to deliver a knockout kick.

“Can’t say I blame you. I did the same thing for a long time.” He continued, before ducking low. Letting one of Judy’s feet sail over him, he grabbed a toe and gave it a short yank backwards, sending Judy face first to the floor for a second time. “But the thing is, I am patently smaller. I barely come up over your knee!”

“WHEN I GET YOU, GOING OVER IT WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR WORRIES!” Judy yelled, as she backed off and scanned her surroundings. A flicker of light caught her eye, and she darted to her side. Over to a pile of drilling equipment, where she lunged straight for a discarded bit. Tattletail ground to a halt as Judy stood up, wielding her new weapon like a baseball bat. The vole thought for a second, glancing back to the limo and his comrades, before darting the other way.

“Oh Buckets…” he yelled. “Oh buckets! Oh Buckets! OH BUCKETS!”

“COME HERE SO I CAN ARREST YOU!” Judy yelled as she followed in pursuit, holding the drill high and ready to bring it sweeping down like a scythe. Tattletail, up in front, fished for an item on his back, held it up high and fired, sending a thin line of steel wire up to the roof. A click on another button on his device, and he felt himself surge up, his new climber making mincemeat of the journey.

“DON’T YOU GRAPPLING HOOK ME, SUNSHINE!” Judy yelled, swinging her club at him, but only glancing his tail. The vole just laughed with glee, as he went up to the roof. Then down again, just within Judy’s jumping range. She leapt up, swinging her bat, only for Tattletail to sail just out of range again. He then dropped down, his tongue out, before going up once more to avoid another strike.

“I’ll grapple hook as much as I like, Bunny Cop!”

Judy paused, before smirking. “The ZPD know I’m here. They’ll realise something is up! Backup will arrive, and you’ll still be here, hanging high and dry!”

“You know what,” Tattletail said, taking his time and smirking as he did so. “You’re right! Oh buckets…”

“Oh Buckets, indeedy…” Judy replied, only to be cut off by the slam of a bucket coming down over her. In less than a second, Raymond was on top of it, lifting his legs off the floor so that his whole weight was pressing it down.

“Clever…” he commented, as he was rocked by a jolt from the bucket beneath him. “Very… Clever…”

 _THUD…_ “LET ME OUT!”    _THUD…_ “I’M JUDY HOPPS, GROWN MAMMAL!”   _THUD…._ “THIS IS DEGRADING TO ME ENTIRE SPECIES!!!!!

“Oh boo hoo!” Tattletail snarked back, as he released his grappling hook and dropped back down to the floor. “Hey Slick, how’s it going.”

.

“…OW….” Nick replied, after a few seconds. “She’s dislocated my shoulder…”

“What about the goods?”

“I’ve put them in the limo. A quick glance in shows no damage, so you didn’t screw up.”

“God,” Tattletail said, with a melodramatic swoon. “The idea of me ever messing up.”

“My apologies. Now… we have a spare tranq in the car, don’t we Raymond?”

.

“I am now frustrated I forgot about dat… In glove compartment.”

.

“Never mind, Tattletail, you get it.” Nick ordered. “I’ll get the drill. Let’s tranq our bunny”

_“Don’t you dare-”_

“Sorry,” Nick replied with a shrug. “I’d use a piece of card or some plywood, but given that you’re strong enough to bust my arm, I’d rather not risk anything.”

“Besides,” Tattletail said, as he jumped into the limo and retrieved the small gun. “We’d need to give you air holes anyway.”

_“Don’t… Just stop… I’M WARNING YOU! YOU KNOW THESE GUYS HAVE BUST COLLARS, DON’T YOU?”_

“You really think I care?” the vole asked, as he threw the gun over to Raymond as if he were doing an Olympic hammer throw. The bear caught it in one hand, while Nick approached with a drill “I was the person who stole these guys their first key! Over twenty-four years ago.”

 _“Wait… what?”_ Judy asked, as Nick’s drilled spun to life, quickly carving a long slit in the soft plastic.

“For good old Mr Khalid Ibn-Zerdain.” Tattletail continued, before Nick continued.

“The craziest Todd you’ve ever met, the magnificent bastard…”

“ _Why does that name sound familiar?”_ Judy asked, as Nick took the gun from Raymond and trained it on the captive Bunny. “ _Who are you? And what’s going to happen to me?”_

“I am Nicholas Piberius Vulpes,” Nick said, “Son of John Piberius Wilde and Marie-Anne Wilde…”

_“Oh my god…”_

“And… remember how you were worried about our collars being bust? Well, where we’re going, we Preds don’t need collars!”

_Thwung…._

The echo of the firing gun rang out for a few seconds, as the bucket shuffled and twitched for a bit before eventually stopping. Looking in, Nick saw Judy with a dart sticking out her rear. He looked up, and nodded at both Tattletail and Raymond.

“Pack everything up, including Miss Hopps! Put the bars of silver to repay the hospital in the vent, and let’s get the hell out of here. I think it’s time to relocate my shoulder and bring a certain nosey Bunny home with us!”


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39:**

.

**December 2015**

.

“So, have you heard the news, Son?”

“What news?” I asked, curious as I turned to look over at my Dad. He had an excited grin on his face, shining through like it always did, even through his layers of thick red and grey winter fur. 

“Our old friend, Tattletail, will be back in Zootopia!” he replied happily. “You may actually finally get to meet him next time you go across!”

“Wasn’t he the rat who stole our first key?” came a voice from behind, both of us turning to see Cass come up jogging behind us, before racing off forward as fast as she could.

“For your information, that’s a YES!” Dad yelled, before turning back to me. “Though he’s a water vole, not a rat, and calling him such is apparently a very, very bad idea.”

“How long since you last saw him?”

“Oh, he’s visited the town once before, though you were away in Zootopia on a long stint that time.”

“Shame…” I replied, shrugging as I did so.

“Quite,” Dad replied, before stifling a giggle.

My eyes half-lidded, and I stared daggers at him. “What…?”

“Oh,” he swooned. “It’s just that you two would get on like a house on fire if you ever met! He’s got a quite a sense of humour, I tell you!”

“So, what?” I asked back, smiling with my paws up in the air. “He’s a rotten tease like me?” I teased myself. “And let us also not forget where I got that from!”

“Son,” Dad replied, swooning as he held his paw up to his heart and tapped in. “You are not like me, you could not aim to achieve one-tenth of the tease potential of your glorious Paps!”

“Says the ex-master...”

.

“S’pose that’s true,” he said, rolling his eyes as he did so. “Regardless, Tattletail is more a shock and awe, caustic humour person…. To be honest, he can be quite vulgar and incredibly flippant at times…”

“So,” I pondered out loud, “Is he what the media back in Zootopia has termed… a troll?”

.

“How should I know?” my father shrugged. “It’s not like I keep up with that stuff, even when I do go back to Zootopia on occasions.”

“Well,” I replied, “I’ll try and see for myself when I get back there. Thinking of doing another orphan liberation sometime in the spring…”

“Good. You can pick up my new daughter while you’re there…”

.

.

.

My eyes widened at his words, a sudden rush of excitement running through me as I turned to face him, a giant grin on my face. “So, Mum did decide to do it!” I shouted, before leaping forwards to throw my arms around Dad. Even though I was a fair bit taller than him, it still felt good to hug him tight every once in a while. And what better time than at the news I was getting a new sister! “Tell me, what’s the lucky Vixen’s name?”

“I don’t know yet…” Dad replied, before putting his fingers in his mouth and giving a short, sharp whistle. Off in the distance, I spotted Mum’s ears rise up as she turned to face Dad, who was waving her over. She glanced down to Skye, who she’d been talking to as they walked forwards together, before leaving her as she came over to us.

“What’s with the whistle dear?” she asked, as she brought her arm around Dad’s neck.

“Nick would just like to hear about the latest addition to the family….”

Mum’s eyes widened, before she turned towards me and smiled. “Your contact in Zootopia…”

“Smokey,” I clarified.

“Just… Smokey?” Mum asked, a finger hanging on her lower lip and her head tilting in confusion.

“Well, he prefers that to Mr Grizzleworth,” I replied.

“When we talked on the phone he said that there was a little five-year-old Arctic Fox vixen in the TundraTown mixed species orphanage, which apparently makes my old home look like a swell place to grow up, called Anita.”

“Anita..?” I asked, trailing off as I tilted my head to the side and waited for an answer.

.

“Now it’s your turn,” Mum giggled, before shaking her head. “Anyway, he said he didn’t get her surname. And right after the call he went into hibernation. But does it really matter given that she’s going to be called Wilde?”

“I suppose not,” I replied with a shrug. “Anyway, you better call over the others. We’re almost there.”

“That we are,” Dad added, as we all turned forward to face the great wall of fire in front of us.

.

The first time I’d ever taken part in a proper fire-keeping ceremony, I was nine years old. Back then, less than a year since we’d landed here after leaving Zootopia, the only Foxes present (bar Finnick’s family, who didn’t celebrate Firekeeping) were my parents and I. Looking up ahead, I couldn’t help but think how much that had changed. There were my three children of course, and then Hester’s family, and the Redtails… But after that, there were too many Foxes to keep track of. Hundreds of them, literally hundreds… And that was just the Red Foxes! My Dad, who’d been elected mayor once again, had made it policy to try and get enough of every species so that their populations were sustainable. The old rule of thumb was to never let them get below three-hundred, and at least half a dozen Fox species had met that target.

Of course, all these new Foxes meant that, in order to celebrate Fire keeping, a lot of planning had to be required. Several large areas had been cleared, with huge rows of wood laid out and set alight. That way, every family could safely find a place to do their leaps.

.

“You going to tell the story this year Gramps?” Cass asked, as she ran back to us and began circling around, jumping and leaping as she went. “And what about the fire? You going to light it as well?”

“Or what about when Gramps and Grandma do it together,” Skye said as she walked up. She’d already removed her thick outer clothes, which she carried in her paws, and was down in her undergarments, her moonlight silver fur making her look like a ghost in the night.

“Skye…” I warned, my fingers going up to my ears and my claws out and pointing. Her eyes widened with realisation, before she sighed and began to undo her silver and garnet earrings, placing them carefully in a pocket of her jumper.

“Or… how about your Mum and Dad do it…” my Mum asked.

.

“I think I could try,” I said after a pause. “Though whether Hess knows…”

Before I could finish, I felt myself being slammed to the side as a fierce Predator leapt at my, before planting her arms around my body in a hug. “I know it,” she tutted. “Long night, scummy gods, Gaia, nameless fox, game of pantheons, sun, foxgloves, an excuse for other mammal’s stupid behaviour… yada yada yada…”

“Well,” I replied as I turned back to the others. “She knows the gist of it!”

“Damn right I do!” Hester yelled, her fist pounding up in the air as she said it.

“Then let’s do this...!”

.

The whole night after went by in a flash. Torches were given out, and the great fire lit. Soon its flaming tendrils rose up and clawed into the cold winter sky while glowing embers spat up like a fountain, before being caught in the wind and drifting away. Together, Hester and I recounted the ancient tale of the nameless Fox, with her doing most of the silly bits. Our own little private audience was enthralled, and soon the story was over and it was time to do the leaps. We all stretched and did warm up jogs, no puns intended, before I prepared to do our families first leap…

Only for Cass to charge straight in in front of us, kicking off and flying through the flaming curtain. She punctured through, the burning wall rippling and curling. It twisted around on either side of the hole she’d torn through it, before the two sides came together again.

Hester immediately followed her, racing off and vanishing into the flames, most likely to deliver a scolding.

It must have been a short one, as soon enough the flames erupted as the two, paw in paw, leapt back through. Their foot paws hit the ground and they were running, back on our side and laughing as they came to a stop next to us.

I went next, charging forward towards the burning heat.

Fighting my fear instincts as it got closer.

Mastering them as I leapt up and flew. I felt the heat rise up around me, my eyes closing, before it enveloped me and then vanish behind me. Landing on my pads, I slid to a halt, my whole body abuzz.

I turned around, pivoting on one foot as my claws dug into the ground, preparing to make the return trip just as my own Mum leapt through, her muzzle wide open in an excited gape. As her feet hit the ground, I charged forwards to make the return trip.

This time my eyes remained open, and I saw the glorious colours of the fire rise up and pass by me. My adrenaline was surging as I hit the ground running, just in time to see my Dad and Oscar, paw in paw, race past to make their leap. Hester, Cass and Skye were there waiting for us, and I gave my favourite silver fox a quick bow before she raced past to do her own trip. I watched her race down, as Mum reappeared, before leaping and vanishing into the blaze just as Dad and Oscar made the return trip.

.

There was a small pause…

.

And then Skye made the final return trip. All of us had been christened by the flames. But while custom said we had to do a return trip once, it said nothing about there being an upper limit.

“ENCOURE” Cass yelled.

.

I smirked, took her hand, and we raced off towards the fire.

.

It was going to be a long… exciting… fantastic night….

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

_KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…._

_._

_KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…._

_._

_‘Urgh….’_ I thought… ‘ _Who’s that… and what are they thinking… Disturbing us at this time in the morning…’_

Straining against the pull of sleepiness, I opened my eyes and pulled off my sleep mask. The morning light shone in cruelly, and I glanced around until I spotted the clock in our wall

.

_KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…._

_._

“Not morning then,” I muttered… “Though we didn’t go to bed yesterday, so we still have a right to this lie in…”

“Wazzat Nicky…” I heard Hester mumble.

“Nothing dear,” I replied, as I shuffled closer to her in our basket. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I pulled her in tight and softly gave her cheek fur a cheeky little preen. Her body radiated with warmth and feeling her soft, thick, glorious fur mingling with my own as I cozied up next to her only wanted me to stay under the covers for longer. It was cold outside, making this little Oasis of warmth ever the more alluring.

“Really? Want morning sex?” she whined.

“No…!” I protested, before pausing to think. I smiled, snuggling in closer as I began to rub myself over her, purring as I did so. I leant forward, and gently nipped her on a shoulder with my teeth. Her whole body shook and trembled, as she purred back. “Though now that you brought up the idea, it…”

.

_KNOCK… KNOCK… KNOCK…._

_._

“Maybe later,” I grunted. “After I’ve given that person a piece of my mind… and retrieved a condom…”

“Really…?” Hester murmured. “It might be my mating season hormones speaking, but the idea of making a new litter with you is making me incredibly…”

.

 _“NICK! HESTER!”_ shouted a voice I knew immediately. _“I NEED TO COME IN!”_

.

“Paps…” I said, gulping as I recognised my Dad’s voice. “What could…”

.

_“PLEASE! IT’S A MATTER OF LIFE A DEATH!”_

.

“This does not sound good!” I cursed, as I leapt out of the basket into the cold air. While my legs were stiff and, courtesy of Hester, handicapped for the next few minutes, I managed to run down to the door and unlock it, letting Dad in.

.

He looked terrible. Tired, as if he’d been up since the small hours, and his eyes trembled with fear. The only thing that snapped him out of it was when he had a chance to look at me.

“You… You’re naked!?”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, “but…”

“And you need a shower…”

“What’s a…”

“A COLD shower,” he clarified, “given what your…”

“I’M LIKE THIS ‘CAUSE YOU SAID THIS IS A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH!” I shouted, before looking down. “Except for that. Not sure why it’s doing that, but you know how they are. Anyway, tell me before I go from angry to embarrassed! What’s a matter of life and death!”

.

“I’m sorry…” he said, his voice sounding very morose as he said it.

“Sorry for…” I began to ask, only to stop as Dad walked forward and clamped his arms around me. His head going into my shoulder, I was shocked as he began to cry into it.

“And… And you’re not the one I really should be sorry for….”

“Dad,” I said, beginning to feel very nervous. “What’s going on?”

“Skye…”

“SKYE!” I shouted, “What’s happened to…”

“AND CASS!” Dad cried back. “And Oscar! Not again… It wasn’t supposed to happen again. But Madge confirmed it. The same as last time…”

“Paps…” I said, beginning to tremble as I did so. “What’s going on. What’s…”

“It’s returned… It took Lynn, and now it’s back…”

.

.

He said it in barely more than a whisper, but it still felt worse than anything else I could imagine. My sweet Skye… My crazy Cass… and my precious Oscar… My Kits… My goddam Kits… It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be…

.

“Dad…?”

I looked up to see Cass peeking out of her room. My runt. My tiny little runt, who’d coughed and sneezed while she slept in my chest fur, barely an hour old….

“STAY INSIDE!” I yelled. “YOU! YOUR SISTER! YOUR BROTHER! STAY INSIDE THIS HOUSE!”

“Nick…”

I turned to see Hester peeking out of our room.

“What’s the matter. What’s wrong… why… why are you crying?”

.

“…Distemper…” I said, holding back a sob as I said it. “Dad says that Distemper has returned.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The next three days were the worst of my life. To say that Kitmass was ruined was the understatement of the decade. Madge had already confirmed several cases of Distemper in some of the felines of the town, raising the hope for us that it was only the rarer feline version of the disease and not the more dangerous Canine version. Still, no one was taking any chances, me most of all.

In those days, the hours I’d spent with my sister came back to me. I couldn’t help but hold all my Kits tight, especially Cass.

Cassandra Lynn Vulpes…

She carried Lynn’s name.

She’d always been the excitable one, just like Lynn.

And a dread fear rose through me that she’d die like my sister too. It was like an icicle in my heart, being pounded in as I thought about it.

I tried not too…

.

The call of the void was too great…

.

The image of her body burning up… aflame with fever and with fur that was oily and filthy and stinking of illness. Her body robbed of its strength, wasting away from the inside…

.

And then twitching, and shaking, and convulsing as it tore itself apart.

.

I cried…

I cried so much my eyes stung, while I hugged my scared children close… unable to shake the memory of what a dead Fox kit’s body felt like…

.

Together, Hester and I did our best to keep everything safe. Avoid any contamination.

.

Together we cried… and hugged… and preened each other to try and lift our spirits… and did the same many times more for our children, who were scared for their life. Something no child should ever have to go through…

.

.

Three days later, we got the news.

.

It was feline distemper, not canine, and they’d contained the virus.

.

Over fifty mammals had fallen ill, and two had died…

.

So far…

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

I’d felt lucky when I’d learnt that it was only feline distemper. That my family was safe…

.

I wish I hadn’t, as now I was having salt thrown into the wounds because of it. I’d felt so glad, so happy that my children weren’t at risk, that I’d forgotten about those of others.

.

“It’s going to be okay…” I said reassuringly, before pausing as it seemed to have no effect.

“Come on Honey,” came the voice of an old friend. “She’s going to survive…”

Honey didn’t listen, or if she did it didn’t help in any way. Instead she kept on snivelling and crying, shaking in a way more emotional and vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. Her head was muzzling against Benjamin Clawhauser’s chest, as she desperately tried to get some comfort on its lithe form. The large cheetah just looked up, his eyes teary and red, before sighing.

“Don’t… don’t think I’m not taking this hard, ‘cause I’m not. It’s… it’s just…”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Sometimes you just can’t cry, and that’s okay.”

“Yeh…” he sighed, before looking down at the honey badger cradled in his paws. “I need to be here for her…” he said, before looking to the bed next to him. “And her…”

.

It was a given that a cheetah and a honey badger couldn’t have natural cubs, meaning adoption was the main way for them to get a child. Their wish had finally come true six years ago, when a homeless mammal had given up their unnamed child to Smokey, before she was carried here on the next boat over. Little Myra was a fishing cat and, on all the times I’d seen her, just a happy little girl just like most children her age… And that made it all the sadder to see her now, asleep in a cot but still moving and shaking. Twitching here and there as the cursed virus coursed through her.

“Don’t worry,” I heard a voice say. I looked over to see Madge Badger, who’d been busy helping with the outbreak. “Myra is well past the worst point, Sis. She’s going to survive.” She looked up and saw me, her gaze faltering for a bit, before she stiffened up, turned back to Honey and spoke up. “I’m certain of it.”

“You hear that,” I said, turning back to Honey… “Your little girl’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fine, and this nasty disease is not going to touch her ever again! She’s beaten it once, and she’ll be immune!”

.

 _Sniff…. Sniff…_ “T-thanks…” Honey whined, as she slowly got up to go over to her daughter. Clawhauser followed, and I watched as they leant over and slowly stroked and petted her sleeping form. As they did, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to face Madge.

“I think they need some time alone,” she said, to which I agreed. We stepped out of their home, into the cold outside air. Even though it was winter, I couldn’t help but notice how deserted… how dead the whole town seemed.

“Any more?”

“No,” Madge replied with a sigh of relief. “No more infected, no more dead. We’ve got this…”

“Must be a relief,” I replied. “Your work is working… your niece is safe…”

“I know…” she replied, a lace of cynicism in her voice. “But still, it makes me hate myself, seeing this happen.”

“But you can’t do anything about it!” I said, at which point she turned to me and nodded her head.

“I know,” she replied, “But that doesn’t help. We can do most things that were done… fifty or so years ago. We can make our own penicillin, do most basic operation… Yeh, a heart attack or stroke is nasty and if it’s serious, we can’t do much. But still, at least those are rare here. Cancer is rough… but it mostly hits the elderly… But these diseases! We don’t have the means to make vaccines! And that just makes our children vulnerable, and I hate that! I hate that I can’t protect them from something that was conquered so long ago…”

“I know how you feel,” I replied. “How it felt when I thought my kits were at risk. It’s… it’s… you just can’t imagine how dreadful it is until it happens. Even after, you can’t quite recall or re-imagine the terror of it. You just know you never want to feel it ever again…”

“Good to have some sympathy” Madge muttered, before she sighed, gave a tired shrug and began walking off. A I watched her, I remembered what I said. I remembered that canine distemper could still come back, still kill my kits…

.

And then I had an idea…

.

“MADGE!”

The honey badger turned to face me, a confused look on her face. “What?”

“Just because we can’t make a vaccine, doesn’t mean we can’t give our children one!”

“What do you mean…” she muttered, before her ideas widened with realisation. “You… you plan to steal a load of vaccines…?”

“Why not!?” I replied. “I hear there’s a master thief in Zootopia who could help us…

.

“That’s crazy,” she muttered, though it wasn’t out of derision. I could see the spark of interest in her eyes, and a drive of longing to fix all this.

“Madge,” I replied, “you should listen to your sister more.”

“Pardon?”

“After all,” I said, with a crazy grin on my muzzle. “’That’s crazy’ is just idiot speak for unambitious…”


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40:**

.

The morning light was just coming up over Zootopia. Looking out from the quayside, in front of the huge barrel roofed warehouse, Nick could see the slightly softer glow of the suns light rise above the incandescent glow of the climate-walls Savannah side heaters. As the new day’s light made its appearance, it flittered across the crests of the millions of ripples and waves on the bay, before lapping against the quay’s worn and pitted concrete wall.

“Well, Zootopia…” Nick softly said to the city in front of him. The city that had driven him and his family away so many years ago. The city that lied. The city that claimed to be a utopia, but was built upon stones of anger and hatred. “Goodbye… and good riddance. As always, I won’t miss you.”

 At that he turned away, his foot claws softly rapping and tapping against the broken concrete road as he made his way towards both the warehouse and the waiting ship. The girl had been old when he’d first sailed on her, back when he and his family were travelling out into the unknown country that lay to the east. That country was now his home, and the old girl still survived to ferry him across.

Him, and many other fellow travellers too.

“Hello Mister Fox!”

Nicks ears pivoted, and he smiled as he glanced two energetic wolf Pups. The Packsons, who he’d rescued from the Tundratown mixed species orphanage, were bouncing around and playing as was any little kids right. While Nick’s right arm was in a sling, given the state of his still throbbing shoulder, he pulled up his left paw to wave at them as they went past. “Hello Pups!”

“Hi!” the other one shouted, before his brother softly tackled him to the ground. They scuffled and pawed at each other, until their cougar chaperone came to break them up. She stood tall above them, one of her feet tapping up and down and an impatient look on her face. The two pups immediately stopped, silently stood back up and then walked off, their tails hanging meekly between their legs.

Behind them, Vasil Snowpaw plodded along, a bit sullen but then with an excited smile on his face as he looked up at the ship in front of him. Next came along a tiny little Arctic fox vixen, her summer coat now all in. She almost had a similar coat pattern to Honey, thought the grey fur on her sides and back was a soft dusty grey than Honey’s almost purple tinted black fur. As for the white stripe on her face, it went from her crown to the tip of her muzzle, her nose sticking out as a grey speck, before it carried on down her front, vanishing beneath her clothes. Next to her, plodded along a large and elderly brown bear, who Nick couldn’t help but regret not seeing much of throughout all of this. Then again, he’d been pulling plenty of other strings, gathering information and making all of this possible. Before he’d go, Nick would have to have a word with him. “Smokey!”

“Nick!” he called back, smiling as he saw the Fox.

Nick walked over to meet him, shaking his paw after a brief period of mismatching hands and then giving him a short, sharp salute. “It seems like we must part ways once more.”

“That we must,” the Bear sighed, shrugging his shoulders with a hint of regret. “But things must go on. Glad to hear your mission went on without too much interference.”

“Too much?” Nick rhetorically asked back, his eyes glancing over at his wound. “If you think little miss energiser bunny and her path of chaos wasn’t too much, I dread to think what you think too much actually is?”

Smokey huffed with amusement, bringing his paw up to scratch his chin. “Something dreadful, I suppose. But still, you plan to take her back with you?”

“We’ve had the odd Prey back in town before,” Nick pointed out.

“But everyone knew that they were allies,” Smokey retorted. “Tattletail’s stay was preceded by informing everyone about exactly who he is and what he did, even though your people already knew.”

“Yeh, in the history books and everything, but still pays to be safe,” Nick replied.

“And those three mules…”

“My father has already told everyone that we’ll be getting them. Ordered them to welcome them with open arms.”

Smokey’s gaze hardened. “Do they even know that they’re getting a Bunny back there?”

.

.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Nick said with a wide grin on his muzzle.

.

Smokey wasn’t impressed. “Given how she conducted herself when meeting me, and how you said she responded on the various times you met, I don’t expect her stay to be a pleasant one.”

.

“Does it look like I give a…” Nick replied, before stopping himself as he remembered that Anita was standing right next to them. “…Damn about her enjoying it?”

.

Both mammals suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, their faces snickering up and chests heaving in and out. Little Anita looked up at both of them, the tip of her mouth opened out into a little ‘O’ as she tried to work out what was so funny. Her curiosity remained unquenched as the two adults finished their laughing and Nick turned to face her.

“Hello little one. Are you excited?”

“Yes I am, Mister Fox!” she replied, a happy smile on her face that quickly vanished as Nick looked down at her in concern, shaking his head.

“We can’t have you calling me that,” he said.

“No, we can’t.” Smokey added.

“Shall… shall I call you sir then?” she asked, her tail dropping down even lower as Nick shook his head once more.

“Hey, little one,” he said, as he leant down and gently cradled her chin with one of his fingers, “You’re gonna be adopted by my Mum and my Dad remember, do you know what that makes you?”

“… your… sister?” she asked, and Nick couldn’t help but notice her ears perk up as he told her she was correct.

“And what does that make me?”

“… My… brother!?”

Nick turned to Smokey, who nodded and smiled. “Sounds about right.”

“You’re my Brother!” she said with excitement. “I have a real big brother!”

“Yes, you do!” Nick happily replied, as Anita raced forward and hugged him.

“Mister Fox is my Brother!” she shouted. “Mister Fox is my Brother!”

“Just call me Nick,” he replied. “And while I’ll be more like an Uncle to you, I have three Kits of my own who you’ll probably get on very well with… Either that or you’ll annoy the heck out of them by making them call you Auntie Anita. Because, even though they’re close to ten years older than you, that’s what you are!”

“Auntie Anita…” the little Vixen sniggered.

“And you’ll have your friends from the orphanage, as well as other children to make friends with. My friends Ben and Honey have an adopted daughter about your age called Myra, and… have you met Finnick?”

“You mean the crazy desert Fox?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Nick replied.

“That’s me!” the titular Fennec shouted, as he strolled past them towards the ship’s gangway.

“Well, his youngest brother also has Kits about your age too! So, plenty of friends for you to make…”

“What about the kind bear?” she asked, turning up to face Smokey. He just shook his head sadly.

“I’m afraid my place is here,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Come with us!” she said, running up to him with a paw outstretched to lead him on. “It’s nasty here, loads of people are mean, and you…”

“Listen, Anita,” Smokey interrupted sternly. “I’m needed in Zootopia, to help plenty of scared and hurt mammals just like you get out. When Zootopia is fixed, then maybe I’ll finally leave… but until then, I have to stay here.”

“But… but…”

“Don’t worry about him,” Nick said. “He’s very clever, knows how to stay out of trouble, and even has a broken collar that will never hurt him. He’ll be fine…”

.

“Okay,” Anita softly replied, looking down as she went forward to hug Smokey’s thick leg. “Goodbye Mister Bear.”

“And goodbye to you too little Anita,” he replied, as he gently fussed with her head fur, before stroking down her spine with the back of his finger. “Now go with your brother Nick… go on and don’t look back at this nasty city. You got that?”

Anita mumble a soft ‘uh-hu’ before leaving him and trotting back towards Nick. The elder Fox at first held out his paw to take hers, before coming up with an idea. Kneeling down, he softly whispered into his ear, smiling as Anita nodded back excitedly. His paws came out, planted themselves around her waist, and quickly lifted her up onto his shoulders, making sure to lean to the side so her weight was on his good one. Her tail wrapped around his neck like a scarf, while her hands gently held onto his ears, half gripping them like joysticks and half kneading them curiously.

“What can I say,” Nick shot back to Smokey, “I’m a bona-fide natural!”

“Yeh,” the Bear replied, before lumbering forward to give Nick a great hug, taking great care to be gentle as he did so. “Enjoy yourself, and goodbye.”

“Goodbye to you too,” Nick replied, and both he and Anita waved as he turned and slowly walked off. Already, a large crowd of other Predators were walking past. Nick noticed how their spines and eyes were both bent and dull with years of abuse, but at the same time alive with hope and excitement. Watching the great huddled mass yearning to be free march past, Nick turned his attention to the three equines who were also here to join them.

Nick felt a tug on his ear, before the hot breath of Anita as she whispered in, “They’re Prey…” 

“They’re also my friends,” Nick replied. “They helped me do something very important last night, and as a result can’t stay in Zootopia because of it. A lot of people are mean to them, even though they’re Prey, so they’re coming to our place to get away from it all… And from a bunch of very nasty mammals who want to hurt them.”

“The important thing… did you break the law?” she asked, causing Nick to pause in thought as Ramsey marched past, bags in each hoof and a huge rucksack on his shoulder.

“Do you know the story about a person who doesn’t have enough money to buy medicine, so he steals some to save his wife?”

“…Yeh,” Anita replied. “He broke the law, but he’s a good guy.”

“Well,” Nick replied. “I had the money, far more than what the medicine really cost, but the shop owner wouldn’t sell it to me. So, with their help, I took it and left plenty of money for them…”

“I don’t think that’s breaking the law,” Anita replied. “I think the shop owner was a very bad mammal. Why can’t he wear a collar?”

“That’s a question for the ages,” Nick commented, as the final Mule lumbered past. Stanley turned to face him and waved, only for the strap of one of his bags to slip. His eyes widened as the canvas bag gaped open, and a complicated mass of what looked like tanned leather spilt out. Nick’s eyes widened as he spotted the strange mass of straps and harnesses, with a three-piece metal bit shinning out at the end. Anita also gasped, though it was much more likely from the intricate mix of shiny jewels that adorned the entire set-up. Stanley, his eyes agape and ears flushing red with embarrassment, hurriedly dropped the rest of his bags and scooped the whole thing back up.

“Family heirloom, we all have one,” he hurried explained to Nick.

“I understand,” Nick lied back.

“Nothing embarrassing,” Stanley lied in return. Quickly shuffling himself so that he held all of his bags, he raced off to join the rest of his brothers as they boarded the boat. Nick just watched them, rolling his eyes, before the sound of a high-pitched throat clearing diverted his attention. Smiling, he turned around and looked down, to where Tattletail was waiting in earnest.

.

“Well,” he said, “I’m glad I finally met you. And, despite our differences in opinion, I have to say we were quite the team.”

“It was fun,” Nick replied. “Very fun. And I don’t think I could have done it with anyone else.”

“You and me both.”

.

“So?” Nick asked, “what now?”

“My final instalment…?” Tattletail innocently asked, like a little Kit asking for an extra cookie from a jar.

Nick gave a cocky smile back, rolling his eyes as he pulled out a similar briefcase to the one he’d given Tattletail the day they first met, only with caster wheels on one side to allow easy movement. Tattletail hopped up and undid the clasps, snickering with excitement as he spotted the bars of silver within. With a hop, he clamped it down again and looked up at Nick. “I suppose you want to know what I’ll be doing after this?”

“Yup,” Nick replied, popping the ‘P’ as loudly as he could. “As you’re not coming with us, are you?”

“Not when there’s so much opportunity in the rest of the world,” the vole replied, bringing his fingers together and interlocking them, before pushing them out and loudly cracking his knuckles.

“Back to Primaiti for a bit?” Nick asked, knowing that he was wrong given how Tattletail’s eyes immediately seemed to double in size out of alarm.

“God no…” he said, “Never again… I’m staying in the civilized world!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Nick assuaged, as Anita tugged at his ear.

“I hear they throw their poop at each other!” she said with a giggle, earning a little scold from Nick.

“Anita… that’s rude, you…”

“I’ve been there,” Tattletail interrupted, his voice grave. “And trust me, many of them still consider it a cutting-edge battle tactic.”

.

“Sorry, Anita,” Nick said. “So Tattletail, where do you plan to go?”

“Well,” he replied, “while the info on Mr Woolly and the blindingly obvious realisation that Tame collars are cruel and pointless is making Zootopia quite an enticing place to prey on, it’s nothing like what’s supposed to be going on in places like Canidaea, where they’re actually going ahead with a collar ban referendum! But I don’t think there’s enough jerks there, so instead I’m going to Katavulpia.”

Nick nodded in return. “Carved up between ten provinces so that Preds had no majority in any of them, but still one whole valley full of half of the Pred mammals in the world…”

“And they’re not happy,” Tattletail replied. “I’ve heard they’re out in the streets, just sitting in important places and shutting down everything, demanding their independence again… I’ve also heard that there are lots of Prey oligarchs with filthy amounts of cash…”

Nick sniggered, before giving his friend a solid thumb’s up. “Knock yourself out, and while you’re at it, maybe spread a few collar keys around too…”

Tattletail gave an evil snigger, as a manic grin grew on his face. “That sounds like an excellent idea…”

“Knock yourself out Tattletail. Goodbye, and I will miss you!”

“You too!” he replied, before setting himself behind his loot-case and starting to push. “And don’t worry, I will! Farewell!”

“Farewell!” Nick replied, as both he and Anita waved back. The larger Fox took a deep breath in, before turning and making his way up towards the ship.

Leaving Zootopia one more time.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Three hours later, and the whole ship thrummed with the deep rumble of the engines. Up front, the spray of the bow cutting through the waves was caught in the sea breeze and carried up as they sailed out of Zootopia’s bay and out into the deep sea. To the rest of the world, the ship had all the official documentation of a regular fishing trawler. But it was anything but.

.

“Do you know what happened the first time I was in this boat. The first time Preds ever made this trip?” Nick asked out of the blue.

“No,” Anita softly replied. She stood by the railing, peeking over at the foaming sea, though her tail was wrapped softly around Nicks legs.

“My Dad took my collar off with our key, and then I took his collar off with it. Then my Mum’s. Then I started taking others collars off. And do you know what happened next?”

“No.”

Nick smiled and leant down next to Anita, to whisper into her ear. “He raced forward, yelling how he loved me and how we were going to play like prey mammals that night.” The little Vixen turned up to face Nick and smiled, hopping up and down on her pads with anticipation, before Nick raced out with the rest of his story. “…and then he picked me up and we raced to the front of the ship!”

“Can I do that!?” Anita asked, skipping up and down and a giant grin on her muzzle. Nick’s grin grew too, as he reached out with his good arm and pulled his new sister up, smiling with glee as she giggled and squired.

“I was waiting for you to say that! Now, arms out!”

“Arms out,” Anita parroted, spreading her arms out like wings as Nick turned and began racing towards the front of the boat.

“Say Neooowwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!” he said, as Anita followed, doing her best plane impression. Nick weaved and snaked as he neared the front of the ship. Spooling out the journey as they approached the bow. When they reached it, Nick grabbed the little Vixen tight and raised her up as high as he could, so she was almost leaning over the front of the boat. She giggled and laugh with glee, and Nick just looked up at her with sisterly love, the few tears from her eyes not just from the salt spray. As the novelty began to wear out, Nick stepped back and sat down, bringing Anita down onto his lap, where he hugged and nuzzled her, before gently preening her fur with his tongue. She settled down and cozied up, nuzzling her cheek against his chest as she fell into a deep and happy bliss that was stronger than anything she’d ever felt before.

.

As far as she cared, it could last forever.

.

But it was not to be, as a deep gruff call came from the behind.

.

“Slick? Our little friend is waking up.”

Nick turned back to face Finnick, before stepping up. With Anita holding his paw, they descended down to the bottom of the ship, below the waterline where the hum and shake of the engines was omnipresent. It was here, in a small storage space at the front of the ship, that Judy slept. Finnick, Nick and Anita stepped inside, the vixen slightly scared by the sickly orange lights and the noise and huddling against Nick for comfort. Nick, wrapping his tail around her in response, looked forward through a mesh door that was padlocked shut, focussing his eyes on the Bunny behind it. She lay in there, with a crate of store-bought carrots and lettuce, along with a sippy-cup of water almost larger than herself. She moaned, rubbing her head as she turned to face them, before she jolted back with fear. Her eyes were wide, and staring straight up at Nick’s bare neck.

“Oh God…” she shouted. “Oh God! Oh god, oh god… Please don’t hurt me. Please go away now before you hurt me…”

Nick stayed silent as he watched her react. She shook with fear, huddling herself up into the furthest corner of her cabin, her paws outstretched for protection. He just shook his head and sighed. “What makes you think I’ll hurt you? I’m just taking you on a short sabbatical to the Predator only country we set up to escape the collars and all the Prey led discrimination. If you find anything disturbing about that, please tell.”

“Your… your…”

“My Collar?” Nick asked, rolling her eyes as Judy feverously nodded. “You may notice we don’t have one. Now, guess what fluff? We don’t need one! Never have! Never did! They ruin our lives, stripping away the very essence of living, all in order to make you guys feel safe…”

“If you two had one on, I’d feel a lot safer now!” she shouted out suddenly.

Nick grunted, growling ever so lightly, before pointing with his good paw at his previously dislocated shoulder. “You dislocated this. If anything, I should be scared of you. Finnick, on the other hand, is even smaller than you, so the fact you want him to wear one really speaks volumes, doesn’t it?”

“I…”

“Judy Hopps, first Bunny cop, giant coward and possessing not a single bone of integrity in her body. I’d call you a chicken, but having met some I have to say that they’re a delightful and open-minded species who got on with me like a house on fire.”

.

Judy just stayed silent, her body trembling with pent up energy, ready to fight off a lunge or attack.

.

“Do you deny it?” Nick asked. “That you’re needlessly terrified of Mammals you could easily beat up?”

“I’m the one in the cage here,” she spat back. “I’m the one who could be shot, and butchered, and…”

“Oh GET OFF IT!” Finnick screamed, kicking the cage door and eliciting a sudden squeal from Judy. “My family is made up of bug farmers and butchers, Fuzz. Give me a scorpion, and I can bite his stinger off and de-shell him in a flash…”

“Poor innocent scorpion,” Judy muttered back, though Finnick ignored him.

“But despite your best efforts, I haven’t the slightest pang of hunger to go eating you! Though if I hear any more crap coming out of your mouth, I’ll probably have to bite yo’ face off!”

“I rest my case,” Judy said, glaring at Finnick.

“Sweetheart,” Nick softly said, “Finnick and his family have been giving out this threat for generations. Even without his collar, for over two decades, not one face has been chewed, minced or gnawed….”

“How do we know that!?” Judy asked. “You guys were evolved as murders, you can’t get past that! And even if you have changed, evolved… how can we be sure? Is it really too much to ask that you take a minor inconvenience in order to make society safe for everyone… especially yourselves! For Fox’s sake, they’re for your own good!”

.

“Finnick,” Nick said solemnly. “Get me a collar, from one of the new refugees, that will fit miss Hopps. Then let’s see what she says about it being an inconvenience… or being for our own good…”

 As Finnick left, Judy’s gaze followed him out as he went, before her eyes rested on the little mottled grey figure wrapped up in Nick’s tail. “Let me guess? She’s one of those orphans, isn’t it?” she accused.

“Guilty as charged.”

“And you had the cheek in that interview room…” she cursed, before she stood up and slowly made her way towards the cell wall. “You’re Anita, aren’t you?” she softly asked. She smiled as the little vixen nodded. “You know there were some awfully upset people when you were taken from your home?”

“I wasn’t taken…” she said slowly. Carefully.

There was a pause, as she blinked, before her whole body stood up.

Taller.

Stronger.

Prouder.

No longer afraid.

“I wanted to go with Nick,” she said firmly.

“But what about your friends?” Judy asked. “There was a nice arctic hare who was very sad that you’d left. He thought it was his fault, and thought I was there to arrest him.”

“I… I’m sorry for him. But I had to wear a muzzle!” Anita replied, gently stroking the tip of her nose. She sniffled slightly, starting to cry. “And it was tight… and it was hard to eat and hurt if I slept on it the wrong way… and… and… “

Nick knelt down to hug his Sister in closer, gently giving her a few licks to cheer her up. She calmed down slightly, snuggling deeper into Nick’s tail.

“You know I was very mad about those muzzles too,” Judy said, her voice taking on a pained, slow tone. “I thought it was horrible too, and I wrote letters and I talked to the managers. Even scary Mrs Brison thought they were wrong, and it was only some managers of the orphanage who’d never seen it who made you wear it. If I had my way, they’d be banned as fast as a snap of my fingers.”

Anita slowly peeked out of her protective tail blanket, before stepping forwards to the fence. Judy slowly walked up to her and knelt down so her eyes were on the level. She lifted up her paw and gently stroked Anita’s, softly speaking as she did so. “See. Despite was Nick says, there are plenty of happy, nice Prey who like Preds. And he’s taking you away from Zootopia, a great city where Pred and Prey get on in harmony and anyone can be anything!”

“Even me…?” Anita asked. Nick just looked on carefully.

“That’s right. Even you Anita Fox.”

She scowled. “My name is Anita Wilde.”

.

Judy blinked. “Did Nick Wilde make you take his name…” she slowly said, her anger rising. “Don’t tell me he’s…”

“My Brother!” Anita shouted out with joy. “I don’t have a dumb name anymore and I have a lovely new Big Brother! Who’s funny, and kind, and I love him and love him like no-one before…”

.

Judy looked up at Nick and glared. “Explain…”

.

Nick shrugged. “My parents adopted her. She’ll be meeting them when she gets to her new home. Now that’s something Zootopia couldn’t offer, could it? A new home for an orphan Fox. A family that loved her…”

“Don’t be so cynical,” Judy chided, before turning back to Anita. She softly put her hand against Anita’s, and smiled gently. “You know, I have lots of brothers and sisters too. Maybe we could go back to Zootopia and adopt you… You’d have to steer clear of my Grandpa Maxwell… but Grandpa Basil would love you… And my Mum would cook you lots of nice home cooked meals. And as you’re a mature, big girl, we could go and get you a nice shiny new collar and…”

Anita pushed away from Judy and fled back to Nick. “I don’t want a collar!” she spat. “It’s almost as bad as a muzzle! It hurts me when people are teasing me, and when I’m too happy… and… and… it’s not fair! Why do I have to wear it and the mean Prey don’t?”

.

Judy paused for a few seconds, recollecting her thoughts, before she began to speak. “Predators like you are a bit different to us, and it’s very easy for you to get mad and accidently hurt someone. You don’t want that, do you? The collar is your friend, it means you don’t hurt your friends or anything. It’s special, and it’s for your own good…”

Judy paused, her ears twitching before she looked up at Nick. His face was scowling, his lips pulling back and a slimmer of bared teeth had been revealed. A soft growl was escaping his mouth, while his fur was standing on end across his body.

“For instance, Anita,” Judy carried on explaining, “it would stop your growling brother from mauling me. You don’t want him to get carried away and hurt me, do you?”

“You hurt him!” Anita accused, pointing at Nick’s arm sling. “You big meany!”

.

.

.

“Look at that,” Nick observed. “Judy Hopps, and all the Prey mammal’s arguments, silenced by a six year old. A very special six-year-old… but a six-year-old non-the less.”

“Yes,” Judy snarkily replied. “With the eternal retort, ‘It’s not fair.’”

.

“But it isn’t,” Nick slowly said. “It’s a horrific injustice, one that drove my parents to risk a fate worse than death to flee Zootopia. That drove whole countries into bitter fights to the death to protect themselves in the past, and that drove tens of thousands of Preds to flee Zootopia and come with us…”

“Yeh,” Judy replied. “And how do they know you’re not lying, oh Mr knight of the muzzle? I presume that was a whole cover for this enterprise, given that I’ve eliminated every other possibility.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“How do they know you’re going to deliver on this promised Pred heaven where they can chase Prey all and every day. You’re probably the world’s greatest con-fox, spinning this great yarn about a utopia that, in reality, probably makes Primaiti look good…” She paused, before shouting out her final accusation. “All because you guys couldn’t accept that collars are for your own good!”

.

“And there it is,” Nick softly said, but with a terrifying hint of malice in his voice. “Again…”

“What?”

“For your own good” he growled, “Your own good. Your own good. YOUR OWN GOOD!”

Judy backed into the corner as Nick shouted at her, gulping as she saw how every strand of fur on his body was standing on end.

How his claws were out as full as they could get.

How his teeth were bared, shining in the dim light.

“Tell, me?” he asked. “How do you know? How do you know they are ‘for my own good?’ Are you me? Because guess what, you are not! You are a mammal who has never had people scurry away from her in ill-founded fear. Who isn’t cut out from the world. Shackled. Having their very emotions regulated. Measured… AND PUNISHED WITH TORTURE!”

This time, Nick’s shout was loud enough to even cause Anita to flinch. And unlike before, he didn’t stop. “THAT IS WHAT IT IS! THAT IS WHAT IT ALWAYS WAS! TORTURE! INFLICTING PAIN ON US! ON GOD DAMN KITS AND CUBS! DO YOU REMEMBER MUCH BEFORE YOU WERE FIVE? NOW IMAGINE IF THOSE FEW FLEETING GLIMPSES WERE ALL YOU KNEW OF FREEDOM!”

There was a pause, Nick taking in a deep breath, before he carried on. No longer shouting, but speaking in a voice laced and dripping with contempt. “Trust, bravery and integrity… you swore those very words. Didn’t you? To protect the innocent. To keep them safe. Out of harm’s way. To protect the weak from the powerful… Did it ever occur to you that you were violating them? What ever happened to innocent before guilty!? I’d ask when did it become Preds are guilty and savage and evil, and we won’t ever let them prove themselves innocent, but in reality it was always that way… ALWAYS! Since the dawn of time, you lot decided that we were guilty of being nothing more than savage monsters, and that conviction has been passed down in your teachings and stories and songs and… and… YOU’RE SUCH A HYPOCRITE! IT’S RIDICULOUS!!! All this time, thousands of years of Prey stomping down on Preds with an iron hoof, and you guys still think you’re the good guys. You just can’t let go of your hatred. To you, the word Predator will always drip with the blood of millennia past, even though YOU ARE THE MODERN PREDATORS!”

Judy opened her mouth to speak, but paused as Nick’s speech continued. She felt the power behind it, like a volcano ready to explode.

“I used to think Prey were no different to us. I used to look up at cops like you as great people. All I wanted to be… standing tall and proud as if you owned the place. When you made my father put my collar on, and when you humiliated him and I for the crime of being Foxes, I learned out why. You did own the place! The city. The world! And we were not welcome here. We were not welcome anywhere. And as you had to have us under your hoofs, we were never allowed a place of our own, were we? Even if it meant throwing your brothers, fathers and sons to their death in the battlefields and icy mountain passes… It was worth it. All so that we couldn’t have a place to call home. A place to be free.

Judy just stared back. Her face emotionless.

“Hey, Judy?” Nick asked. “What kind of thing are you thinking now? What kind of thing are your Prey friends and Cop friends thinking? Now that Woolly’s scandal has been exposed. Now that whole provinces are pushing towards independence… or banning collars. I don’t want to know what ugly thoughts they are, because I know you guys… The majority, at least.”

“What do you know?” Judy finally asked. “About us…”

“That you can’t stand the idea that you’re actually the bad guys. That you can’t stand the idea that you guys did something terrible. And out of fear of realising it, you’d be happy to do even more terrible things. Always justifying it. Always saying that it’s for the greater good. Even if it makes our lives so much worse. Even if it actively makes your worse as well! All so you can revel in the unevolved fears of your wild ancestors, even though we purged our old instincts for you generations ago! I’ve got to teach you! I’ve got to educate you all! If you won’t listen, then I’ll drill it into you!”

Judy glanced to his side and gulped, as Finnick stood there with a frying pan and a tame collar.

“I wonder what you’re going to say to excuse yourself from this? Something about how you’re better than us. How we’re all savage and uneducated. Well, let me tell you something. It’s not going to work. You know why?”

“Why?” Judy asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Nick smiled. A sadistic smile. A cathartic, gleeful, hungry smile. “Because, you dumb bunny, this is for your own good…” He sung out the last words, before his teeth bared and the rage came back. “FINNICK! COLLAR HER!”

Before Judy could react, Finnick opened up the door and Nick lunged in, pinning Judy in his paws before she could fight back. She squirmed, wiggled and screamed, tears flowing from her eyes as Nick lifted her close to his mouth.

.

Hot breath washed over her, and she felt the insides of her legs go warm and wet as she gazed into Nick’s open mouth, its rows of razor sharp teeth sending chills down her spine.

.

She closed her eyes, and waited for the end.

.

_Thwuu…._

_._

_Thwuu…_

_._

Judy opened her eyes and glared at Nick, as his tongue came down and gave her another lick.

.

_Thwuu…_

.

“My dear Fluff. Lil’ cute Judy. You dumb, dumb bunny,” he said slowly, savouring every word. “I love that you have such a low opinion of me. I mean, after accusing you of being such a hypocrite, would I really go as far to prove myself an even bigger one. And in front of the Kit as well… Oh your depressing but predictable lack of faith… I’m a gentlemammal, and I will not hurt helpless mammals who have no hope of harming me back. It isn’t very nice, is it?”

.

Judy just looked back and scowled, before bringing one of her ears down onto Nick’s muzzle.

_SLAP…._

Nick shook slightly in shock, and Anita giggled. “Now, I’ve never…”

_SLAP…._

The other ear came down, Judy putting all her force into it. Nick only found it mildly annoying. “Judy, please stop…”

_SLAP…._

_SLAP…._

_SLAP…._

_SLAP…._

Anita burst into laughter, and even Finnick sniggered, as Judy’s ears rotated and rotated, continually landing down onto Nick’s muzzle. He looked down at Finnick and sighed. “I might get a bruise from this in an hour or so… But I don’t really want to wait that long. My bad shoulder is very uncomfortable right now, so do me a favour and tame this savage bunny.”

“Yo Officer big-ears” Finnick called. Judy ignored him. “Stop that now or I’ll insert this pan into you!”

.

“That breaks several laws,” she said, taking a break from her ear assault before resuming it. “The laws of geometry for one.”

“You underestimate both my persistence and impatience. Now hold still!”

Judy didn’t, but Finick leapt onto Nick’s good arm anyway and quickly fastened the small collar around Judy’s neck. Before it had a chance to hum to life, Nick threw Judy into the cage and Finnick locked it, leaving the Bunny to bang on the wall fruitlessly.

Nick, cursing under his breath, slid his right arm back into its sling before a soft chuckling caught his ear.

“Nick Bro,” Finnick began. “When you memorised that ‘epic speech’ you wrote out last night, saying you would be able to say it all… I called you stupid! Why do all that when you can just threaten her with a frontal-cranial incisor operated amputation! But damn Bro, did that speech give me the chills...”

“When in Zootopia, Finnick,” Nick proudly boasted. “I live and die by the rule of cool.”

.

“And back in Pinehaven?” Finnick asked.

.

“I’m a sentimental family guy doofus who loves doting on cutie patootie things like little Foxy woxxy Anita here... Isn’t that right you?”

Anita just giggled as Nick made some silly faces, blissfully happy to be loved as much as this.

.

**ZAP….**

“AHHH!!!!!!”

.

All three Foxes jolted at the sound of a collar going off, and turned to look at Judy. She looked back, her light orange and anger growing on her face.

“YOU MONSTERS!” she screamed, “I BET YOU MADE THIS ULTRA…”

**ZAPPP!!!!!**

**“** ARGH! SENSITIVE...! Cheese and crackers… that burns!”

.

Looking down and seeing Anita trembling with fear, Nick wrapped his tail around her while looking back to Judy. “No, that’s a pure vanilla…”

He paused as Judy grabbed her water cup and held it up, pouring the fluid inside over where her shocker unit was and getting it all over her neck.

“Fluff!” he warned, “that’s a very bad…”

“It’s not even COLD!” Judy growled, “How am I supposed to…”

**“ZAP!!!!!”**

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHRRRRRGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

.

Everyone winced back as the relatively normal shock sent Judy into a wave of agony. While Nick wanted to feel a healthy dose of schadenfreude, he couldn’t help but feel some empathy.

“Judy, yes you treat burns with water. But guess what. Water conducts electricity much better than fur…”

.

The room was just filled with quietly, mournful sobs…

.

_Beep…_

.

**ZIP…**

.

“ARGGGGHHHH!!!!!”

.

Nick looked away, before he felt a tug on his leg. Looking down, he spotted Anita crying, the source of half the sobs in the room. “I want to go brother.”

“Okay,” Nick replied.

“…When will Judy be out of a collar?”

Nick paused to think. Looking back, he spotted Judy glaring at them, her collar light flicking between orange and green. He turned back down to Anita. “We’ll come back down here after lunch, talk to her… And when you think she’s learnt her lesson, we’ll take it off… Unless you think she’s learnt her lesson now, do you?”

Anita looked back at Judy. She didn’t like seeing someone hurt by a nasty collar. But then again… She’d been mean to her lovely brother Nick, and said a lot of horrible things. Worst of all, even though she said she was a good person, she said that she and all the good preds around them had to wear the collars, even though they did nothing wrong.

“No!” she said firmly, before she, Nick and Finnick left Judy alone to contemplate on a lifetime of actions.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41:**

.

**April 2016.**

.

I’d always thought that life had a way of rhyming with itself. Things would come and go like waves on the beach, or the tides lapping at the shore.

.

Coming and going…

.

Repeating and rhyming…

.

Strange sort of coincidences that appeared, stirred old memories as they went…

.

Of course, there was also the everlasting temptation, whenever you spotted such an opportunity, to act on it.

Make it real.

.

Twenty-three years ago, my father had stood where I was now.

Today I stood in his place.

.

Waiting…

.

Scanning the horizon…

.

Looking to the north and the east, waiting for a break to appear on the great border between the sky and the sea.

.

_…And there it was._

To the north and the east, almost like a smudge on the window, but it was there none the less. The southern tip of the western island…

.

Immediately, there was one thing that I had to do.

.

“LAND HO!” I shouted out into the cabin, before flicking on the ships intercom system with my paw and leaning down to the nearby microphone. “LAND HO! I REPEAT, LAND HO!”

.

I stood back up, and slowly began counting down.

.

_Ten._

_._

_Nine._

_._

_Eight._

_._

_Seven._

_._

_Six._

_Five,_

_Four, three two…_

“WHERE?” came an excited shout, and I turned down and smiled as I spotted Anita hurry up into the bridge. Smiling, I leant down and picked her up, before lifting her up onto the control panel. My bad shoulder had completely recovered from the killer carrot’s assault, so the action was simple and easy.

“Where is it Nick?” she asked again, her head feverishly scanning left and right before fixing on the far-off mountain. “Is that it?”

“Yeh, little Sis,” I replied. “That’s it…”

“It’s really small…” she mumbled.

“It looks really small now, but trust me, it’s big!” I replied. “And that’s not even the island we’re going to. Behind that there’s an even bigger island, and we’ll be sailing north up along its coast until we find a nice bay where a river meets the sea. And built on the rocks above that bay, where the land starts to rise up into a set of big mountains, is our town. Your new home, little Sis.”

“Can you say that again?”

“What again?” I asked curiously. My curiosity became even greater as she turned away and squirmed bashfully.

“Little Sis,” she whispered. “I like being called little sister…”

I couldn’t help but let a giant grin grow across my muzzle as she said that. She’d enjoyed the last few days of the trip on the boat almost as much as I had on my first journey. Admittedly, a lot of that was from all the times I’d been playing with her. Preening her in the morning, playing games with her and other families on the boat or just running around here and there for the rest of the day, enjoying how it shook and swayed with the waves.

There had been one part of this trip, however, that both of us hadn’t enjoyed. After every meal, we’d return down to face Judy. The Bunny in the cell. And all the times she’d been angry, vindictive, self-righteous and often ended up shocking herself several times before we gave up and left. On each occasion, Anita had decided that Judy hadn’t learnt her lesson and deserved to keep her collar on. At first I’d agreed, but now that we were less than a day away from a place where no-one wore collars; which had been founded on the idea that no-one wore collars, and where seeing someone in a collar would likely trigger some people. Sure, many would likely be happy to see her suffer in it, but despite how stubborn she was, I didn’t want to have to compromise my father’s dream. Our dream…  

No matter how dumb or annoying the mammal, the idea of them having to wear a collar sickened me to my stomach, and the sooner Judy learnt her lesson the better. I knew that I had to do something, and I also needed to prove to her that we were the better mammals, and for her to understand it. If the worst came to the worst I’d just remove it, but at the same time I didn’t want to break my word to Anita. Never the less, I had a cunning final plan to try and sort this all out.

“Come on, Sis,” I said as I walked away from the bridge, giving a wave to the captain as I passed him. “Time for lunch, and then we’re going to see Judy again.”

“Do we have too?” Anita whined. “She just shouts at us, and is angry… and it smells down there…”

“I need her cleaned up before we arrive,” I replied. “And I think you should see her. When I’m done with her, I think she’ll have something to say about all this, and hopefully it’ll be enough to convince you that she doesn’t need a collar anymore.”

“It’ll have to be something big!” Anita replied. “She’s just so mean, and thinks that those nasty things are good for us, even though they’re even hurting her…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I replied. “It’s something very simple and very clever, that I think will work…”

.

.

Two hours, a large lunch and some visits to a bathroom later, the two of us were walking back down towards Judy’s cell. Anita’s nose was already wrinkling from the smell. Even though we gave Judy a bucket, which we emptied every time we gave her a meal, the odour of pellets still prevailed. It had only gotten worse after a bad storm that struck in the small hours of yesterday. I pushed through the smell as I opened the door to ‘the brig’ and looked into her cell. A single orange light shone out, and it trembled as the figure it was strapped around turned to face up.

“Are you ready to apologise?” I asked, before the collar briefly flicked to red.

**Zip…**

.

There was no scream. No grunt. No yell. But then, after a few seconds of silence there was a voice, steeped in bitterness as it snarled out its accusation. “Why should I apologise to the person who is most likely Zootopia’s greatest criminal? Who kidnapped…”

“They went of their own accord,” I interrupted. “Even the orphans like Anita here chose to run away. We just took them in…”

“Who kidnapped me!”

I sighed. “You gave us no choice!”

“And then abducted me,” Judy carried on, regardless. “Keeping me in a cage, covered in my own filth. In the dark… the cold… sleeping on a hard floor, on the occasions I can get to sleep against the drone of the engines. All alone, slowly going mad with loneliness… You’ve made my life hell. So why on earth should I owe you an apology?”

“I’m sorry I had to do this to you,” I replied, genuinely feeling that way. Bar those few cathartic hours on the first day I didn’t want to do this to her, but she was giving me no choice. However, I couldn’t help but notice an omission in her speech. “But I noticed no mention of your collar. Or the lack of ours…”

.

“It’s not that bad…” Judy replied after a pause. “When you get used to it. It sucks a bit, but nothing to go supervillain about. Nothing that justifies all this…”

“But it’s horrible!” Anita shouted suddenly.

“Did Nick put those words in your mouth?” Judy accused. “I’d rather not have it, but if it were needed to stop me mauling other people by accident… or going savage, I’d be happy to wear it!”

“But what about when it hurts you when you’re too happy?” Anita asked, pausing as Judy replied with a quick giggle.

“Don’t be silly… It doesn’t do that.”

Of course, this Bunny was insisting on being particularly stubborn. To be fair, she hadn’t had any opportunity to be too happy over the last few days, and thus learn the collars full remit. It was something that was entirely my fault. Something I planned to change.

“How about we get you cleaned up?”

.

“Pardon?”

.

“You’re filthy,” I said, an understatement given the stench of her scent. “Covered in your own filth, tatty, dishevelled… unkempt… And I don’t think you want to be introduced to my friends like that do you?”

“No…”

“So,” I replied. “On the condition you behave yourself, I have a pleasant surprise in store. Can you be a big bun?”

.

“If you don’t call me that, I’m certain I could be,” she snarked back.

I smiled, dusting my paws together as I got her to concede. “Fine by me, Carrots,” I said, ignoring her annoyed grunt, “I’ll unlock your door and then you’ll follow me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

I fished down into my pocket and retrieved the key to the padlock, and quickly undid it with a click. There was a soft clang as it hit the floor, before the doorway creaked open. The orange light inside went down to green and, as I held out my paw, it shifted as another took it. Out into the light, walked Judy Hopps.

Her fur really was a mess, looking half like she was a bit of fabric lint, half like she was caught up in a thunderstorm and one extra half just messed up. Rather than all flowing in one cohesive direction, all the hairs were mish-mashed. Splayed here and there or clumped up into mean little knots. That was ignoring the parts smeared with brown pellets, or stained with urine. Her clothes were so badly stained that it physically hurt me to look at them, while her eyes were dull, red and tired.

“Still think I’ve not been punished enough?” she asked tiredly, though the question wasn’t directed at me. It was at Anita.

.

“Do you still want to put a collar on me?” she asked back.

.

Judy sighed, evidently displeased by my sisters continued youthful ignorance, and was about to speak only to be interrupted. Anita evidently got enough from her actions to know what would be coming next.

“Then you haven’t been!” she said. “You lock away people until they’re no longer nasty! So you should wear that collar until you’re no longer nasty!”

.

“Was this what you were like when you were her age?” I asked, unable to stifle my small grin. “Is this the vulpine equivalent of a six-year-old Judy Hopps? Brimming with righteous justice and dreaming of punishing bad guys?”

She rolled her eyes, but the small grin was unmistakable. “Looking back at certain moments… I can definitely see the familiarity,” she said, as I began to lead her out. She was unsteady on her feet at first, wobbling about, so I made sure to grab her with my paws to steady her. She mumbled something or other back in irritation, though soon she’d found her own feet and was able to walk by herself.

.

.

“So this whole Predator utopia thing?” Judy suddenly asked out of the blue as we climbed up one of the stairways. “It really is true?”

“That it is,” I replied. “Not a complete utopia, but by and large a very nice, happy place to live.”

.

.

“And thinking back about all the things said and done when investigating the knights of the muzzle… Was Oates leaking information to you?”

“Who?” I asked.

“Oates,” she clarified. “Detective Oates… was he your mole? I mean horse… or mole…”

“That mole was our horse, yes,” I joked back. Judy let out a large guffaw, bending down and pulling on my paw, before descending into a set of giggles.

.

_Beep…_

.

“Wait… what was that?” she suddenly asked, standing up tall.

I just pointed to my neck, just as her collar went back down to green.

.

“Hang on, did I snag it or something or…?” she began, before I sighed and corrected her.

“Your laugh was a nice surge of emotion fluff. It detected that, and then warned you.”

.

She was silently for a few seconds, her paw going up to fidget with the device, before she grumbled. “Are you certain you haven’t tampered this? Put up its sensitivity or…”

“NO!” I said sternly. My abruptness caused Judy to flinch back sharply, so I calmed myself down and explained things to her slowly. “Collars detect emotions, regardless of what they are, and it detected your joy there. That’s what Predators have to live with every day under those things, something so horrible that Prey like you deny it’s even going on… given that you couldn’t live with the truth. You guys all celebrate following your heart instead of your head. Of true love and passion and joy… And you rob it from us while rubbing it in our faces… And you made up this whole false truth to protect yourself, to keep your filthy paws looking clean, while you let all this cruelty carry on under your watch…”

.

 _And there it was…_ I noticed her nose twitching, despite how she seemed to try and ignore what I’d said. But the hard part was over, I’d finally driven in the first crack into the iron shell of face-saving lies that had been built around her since her birth. Now… it was time for the easy part. “Do you know who’s collar that was?”

Judy shrugged in response.

“She’s looking at you, Kit..”

Judy turned to face Anita and, while very subtle, she definitely gasped. Her paw was up and feeling around her collar, before she looked back at me.

“I was happy for you to have just any old collar,” I replied. “But it seems Finnick has an even stronger sense of poetic justice than I do. It was an interesting surprise for me, and talking of surprises, I have one for you!” I finished my announcment as we came to a door. I opened it up and Judy looked in, and her face lit up as she saw the hot bath and the new change of clothing in front of her.

.

_Beep…_

.

**ZIP…..**

She looked back up at me, suddenly with a pair of terribly vulnerable eyes, before looking over at Anita and then back to the bath.

“Can I have some privacy please?” she softly asked, as I nodded and left the room. Hearing the lock click in place, and the soft shuffle of soiled clothing being removed, I smiled, before turning to Anita.

“She still hasn’t apologised!” she spat.

“But she now knows what she needs to apologise for,” I explained, as I took her paw and began to lead her away. “And I think that when she gets out of there, she’ll be ready.”

.

.

.

Two hours later, she was. She was led up to the bridge, dressed up in a simple white dress, and smiled as she saw me. I waved her up, and let her jump onto the instrument panel with Anita. She looked out curiously, taking in the shoreline and landscape of my home island to our right, before turning to face me and sighing.

“I suppose I owe you an apology…”

“That you do…”

“Not for dislocating your shoulder… I was doing my job. Nor for my first tirade… I was kidnapped, shaken, scared… Nor for what I did back in Zootopia investigating you, given that I was right!”

“I suppose you were,” I said back, flashing her a sly wink that she brushed off with a little chuckle.

“But… well,” she said, looking at the floor. “I don’t really know how to put it into words. Does not seeing the forest for the trees count? I don’t know anymore. Hearing all these stories about how collars were so much worse than what I thought and… well, you were right. I was a jerk, and I did ignore them all because of what the implications of them being right were. That us Prey mammals had become worse than the things we were saying that we were conquering. And I was having some doubts with Woolly’s stuff, but I moved my goalposts an inch or so and then acted like I’d moved them a mile. And I’m sorry that I’m still nervous, and unsure… and scared. But thinking in that bath, slowly realising what wearing a collar would really mean… practicing different emotions and…”

She paused a bit, before looking up. I hadn’t noticed it, but her collar was orange and there were tears in her eyes. “Suffice to say, it isn’t a little inconvenience. I couldn’t cope with it on for long term regular life. And they shouldn’t just be fastened around Predators necks and the keys thrown away. Maybe they are still needed, I don’t know, but we need to find out. And if they are, you guys need a haven to get away from them. So, you can be yourselves, and be free…”

.

“Do you think I still need a collar?”

Judy turned to face Anita and sighed, her paw reaching out to stroke her muzzle. “I don’t know…” she softly said. “I really don’t know anything… Even if you do need it, you don’t deserve it. No one as young as you deserves it. All I know is I’m just a dumb, dumb bunny…”

.

“Oh fine,” Anita grunted. “Brother, if you want she can have her collar off. But only if she’s good!”

I fished into my pocket and retrieved the scanner. Holding it up and pulling the trigger, there was a soft click as the device unlatched, and Judy suddenly burst into tears.

.

.

.

.

“See them over there,” I asked, pointed to two figures on the beach. We’d sailed in just as the tide was going out, and the ship had half beached itself on the soft mud on the bottom of the bay as we’d dropped anchor. Even though the water was only chest high, it was still cold and wet, so Anita and I were taking one of the small boats from it to the shore. Still, the exposed sand meant those waiting for others to arrive (such as Vasil’s and the Packsons adoptive parents) could get in close.

“The two red Foxes?” Anita asked, as she crawled up past me, her tail swishing madly with excitement.

“Yes,” I replied, “Can you guess who they are?”

“Your parents?” she asked, and I nodded in reply.

“Yes… but they’re something else, remember?”

“ _My_ parents!” she half shouted, before turning to them, jumping up and down. “MUM? DAD?” she screamed, tears of joy flowing from her eyes. Looking over, I saw them point and wave back, and looking close I could see my Mum was crying too.

“That’s right,” I said back, before pointing to the four figures standing next to them, my heart fluttering with longing as I saw them. “And those four to the left are my wife and kits…”

“LET’S MEET THEM!” Anita screamed. “I WANT MY MUM AND DAD!”

“Hold on…” I cautioned her, only for her to turn to me with the biggest puppy dog eyes in existence…

“Ehhhrrr….” I grunted. “Not the eyes!”

“ _Please…._ ” She wailed, and with a sigh I hoisted her onto my shoulders and leapt into the water.

“BAH!!!! COLD….. COLD……. COOOOOOLLLLLDDDDD!” I yelped, as the freezing water reached, quite annoyingly, just above my groin. “The things I do for love,” I muttered, as I pushed forwards, at first a bit slower than the boat but then a good deal faster as the water got shallower. The slope of the beach was very gentle, and soon I was racing ahead, foam spray kicked up around me as I approached my parents. Both were crying now, their arms open, and with one last kick of energy I met them. Arms out, all four of us clung into a tight cuddle.

It felt so good, after this time away, to be back with the ones I loved…

“I’ve missed you two,” I said, “though don’t worry, I return bearing gifts!”

“Good to see you too, Son,” Dad replied, as Mum just nodded, too busy sniffing to say any coherent words. We slowly let go of each other, and Mum quickly looked down at Anita before picking her up in her arms and holding her tight against her. Both vixens were crying, the younger one’s paw trembling as it gently touched that of her mother, as if trying to confirm that this wasn’t a dream. That this was real. That she finally had a Mum, and a Dad, after spending her whole life alone.

I, however, had a different Vixen to attend to. Three in fact, with a very special Todd thrown in for good measure. Turning around to face them, I raced towards my own family, trying to reach Hess only to be ambushed as my three Kits leapt up to hug me.

My balance went…

And I tumbled back onto the beach, the sky filling my vision before three faces filled it.

“Help!” I yelled. “Assault! Savage Preds! I’m about to be loved to death!”

All three of them were a bit too old to go into hysterics, but they weren’t cynical enough yet to be embarrassed. I felt Oscar put his arm behind my back and pull me up, as Cass came in and gave me a rough pat on the back. “Missed you, Dad,” she said. As Oscar and Skye gave their greetings too.

“Welcome home, Dad!”

“Glad you’re back…”

“Don’t be too happy,” I replied, in a joking mood. “I will be sticking lots of needles into you guys over the next week or so. Just to show you how much I love you…”

They didn’t say a word in response as I stood up, instead walking in and wrapping their arms and tails around me. I felt warm and loved as they cuddled in around me, and I put my arms around them to protect them back. Their scents filled my nose, filling the gaping loss I’d been feeling ever since I left them, and I felt the brilliant feeling that you can only get by being a dad…

“Any lovin’ left for me?”

“Wait your turn, Hess,” I snarked back, as I looked up at my wife. It wasn’t an angry snark though, it was playful, and once I was done with my kids there was a hell of a lot of loving left for her. 

“I will,” she playfully replied. “Though given the scene you’ve caused, it might have to wait.”

“What scene?” I replied with a shrug, before realising that something wasn’t quite right. Turning up from my children, I looked around and saw all the Preds who’d been waiting at the shore looking in shock at the boat, or whispering to each other with fearful voices. I turned back to Hess, and spoke. “How much do they know?”

“The basics,” Hess replied. “From the ZNN, about the missing Bunnycop, and what your father has briefed us about.”

“Well,” I replied. “Better introduce her…. Mind untangling yourself kids?”

My three Kits did as they were asked, and I quickly jogged to the boat, which had just made landfall. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” I proudly shouted. “On this trip, four very special Prey mammals have joined us! Three fine gentlemen are still on board the ship, and will be helping and teaching our medics… But this fine lady here, the perennial thorn in my side for the last few months and now my honoured guest, is the ZPD’s own Judy Hopps!”

I used both my paws to show her off, as the very meek looking bunny waved slowly at the ghostly quiet crowd. Unable to help myself, I leant in and whispered in her ear, “Savage welcome or what, Fluff?


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42.**

.

_Judy’s (2 nd) Diary. _

.

1st May, 16.

.

So… Here I am.

.

Bit of an update…

.

It turns out that the mysterious Fox who’ been irritating me these last few months is actually the leader and primary operator of the Knights of the muzzle. While this may seem an inherent contradiction, a Predator being in charge of a notorious Pred-hating group, it is explained by the knights of the muzzle actually being an elaborate cover under which thousands of Predators have been smuggled out of Zootopia, and to a secret Predator only independent country.

.

Got that?

.

Good…

.

Now, let us dive further down this rabbit hole, shall we?

It turns out that Nicholas Vulpes being surprisingly similar to an amalgamation of the names of two Foxes who went missing right at the start of the KotM case is because he is one of them… And then he married the other, taking her last name.

And while he was infuriating to me, and obsessed with being ‘cool and mysterious’ while in Zootopia, he is actually a laid-back family man with three teenage kits.

.

Hmmm… I’ll have to work on what exactly I’m going to put into my full ‘I’m perfectly safe and totally not dead’ letter that they’ve promised to send back to Zootopia… Eventually.

I asked if I could use their email link to send something, but bar a quick ‘I’m not dead’ message I sent using a VPN, they don’t really want to give out anything that could trace them back to here. Bit paranoid… but it’s sort of the theme what with the secret town and the cover of the anti-Pred hate group…

.

Am I the only one finding this incredibly surreal?     **THAT’S A YES, DUMBYBUNNY.**

.

Well, here I am. Writing once more in what is my second diary, given that my first may still be by the Jam-cam monitor station (edit: Dear God! What if my workmates look at that!). It’s not that I really have anything else to really do though, is it? In any case, I’m still happy that Mr Vulpes and his family decided to give me some paper, pens and pencils to doodle and write down my thoughts. I don’t really know how long I could spend stewing in my own bitterness, like I did on that ship. Talking about that boat… and being put in a collar.

.

Well, now I can’t be told that I don’t know what it’s like, can I? And for the record, while it did suck that I couldn’t full on lay into Mr Vulpes, I could easily cope wearing one of those long term…

Before I learnt of some of its other effects, that was…

.

I was happy to see a nice hot bath and, for that thought crime, my collar shocked me…

And that got me thinking. About all these more vocal anti-collar people. Who say it sucks, it ruins their life, that it actively ‘sands down the best bits of existence’ as some put it.

Before now, I just rejected that all out of hand. I thought that surely it couldn’t be all that bad. Surely no-one would implement something that terrible. It’s like…

.

Well, did I mention gravity before? Not sure, but anyway, it’s something so basic and intrinsic to life that you take it for granted and never think about it. Never questiont it. You take the world as it is, and that’s all you need to ever do.

And then a big (red-furred and highly irritating) apple dropped on my head. **NOT TO MENTION SEXY TOO!**

And in that bath, I toyed with that collar. Now, I was wise enough to do it while my neck was still out of the water… I AM NOT MAKING THAT MISTAKE EVER AGAIN!

.

_(On the other hand, if you’re totally in some water, wouldn’t that just conduct the electricity through the water and avoid your skin? Maybe that would help cancel out the extra pain given by the waters extra conductivity, all balancing out?_

_I don’t really know… and I really don’t want to try it. Short of having my own personal Faraday’s cage, I’m not going to try put on a collar and try to shock myself ever again.)_

.

Anyway… branch line of though aside, I imagined things in that bath. People I love, things I’ve felt. I channelled different feelings. I got mad. I got angry. I made myself scared. I (tried) to make myself sad. I made myself happy and I made myself… lustful…

And in all of those occasions, the collar flickered on to orange and I backed off, flinching away from something I was being told was wrong. Something which, if I turned it up, would earn me a nasty little shock. And these were all things I remember feeling from my childhood, all the time. Always being excited, or getting stroppy, or happy or scared. The collar I wore was wrapped around the neck of a little girl who I swore to protect, and for a long time I thought that that was just. That was right. This was the way things are. But it’s not right. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong it screams and screams and screams. A little girl shouldn’t be subjected to that. No-one should. Even though I know that now, there isn’t much I really know anymore.

It’s quite hard to put into words what it’s like, having the central tenant of your world view overturned and turned to dust. All through my career, I’ve always justified the collars as being A: needed and B: really not that bad. I told myself that I wasn’t really causing much harm in enforcing this. No more than when I’m enforcing regulations that protect segregated small districts such as little Rodentia. And thinking back, I’d always be able to come up with a justification.

And now I know why I did so…

Looking back, I’ve realised that the idea of me… someone who’s modern and progressive and out there to make the world a better place… having blood on my hands was so terrible, so unjustifiable, that I instinctively washed my paws at every opportunity, not even realising why I did so, so that I realised the truth.

Now though I know that my hands, and those of every other Prey mammal, are covered in blood. And even if that blood needs to be there, we can’t just go on ignoring it.

.

Mr Vulpes? If you’re reading (if you are, then SCREW YOU!) this and expected me to be full on anti-collar yet… I’m still unconvinced. Probably why I’m still locked in this room, not going out… Too many years of ‘common sense’ telling me not too. But these collars… something needs to change. They’re wrong… even if they are needed they are wrong. And the bit of me that is telling me that they aren’t needed is getting larger and more vocal with every passing second. Is it just being dragged up by the bit of me that knows the collars are wrong, pushed and made instinct like the bit of me that used to justify them?

.

Just me trying to wash my paws again?

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Trying to be ‘good and progressive’, but only really doing it for my own good?

.

I really don’t know.

I’m afraid I’m only a Bunny, and while I’m not dumb, I just don’t know what to think right now.

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2nd May, 16.

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Another new day.

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Nothing much really happening…

.

Well, there is what’s going on outside.

It’s a bit hard to explain, but this bit of the town (which I presume was the first part they built) surrounds a large grassy green. I’m currently in this building that’s made out of stone that’s been cemented together, and it’s got a plexiglass window that looks out onto that area, and what must be a town hall behind it.

And there are huge numbers of children there. Crowding around, waiting or queuing, or playing on the bits of equipment that are scattered about. They’re going into the town hall for some reason, and coming out… I don’t know why, but they’re certainly making a whole lot of noise while they’re waiting.

Not that I’m complaining… I survived Bucky and Pronk after all (even if it was only just). I survived growing up in a huge burrow while also blessed with super hearing. This isn’t so bad at all.

.

Well… it kind of is. It was cute for the first half dozen hours… By the second… Imagine a mosquito in your room and that’s the level of annoyance I’m currently dealing with.

.

Nick, and his wife (who’s already christened my ‘Dumbybunny’) are out there, I guess playing with their kids or whatever (TBH, it’s a nice day). However, I did get to talk with Nick’s Dad.

.

John Wilde was, with the rest of his family, one of the first Preds to vanish. Right in the very first wave…

And it kind of makes sense, given that it was primarily his idea.

He struck me as very humble. He didn’t come in here boasting ‘Look at this town I built!’. He asked me what I thought of the place (very, very rural. Picturesque, but could do with some decent windows, wifi and some better interior décor (I also stand by my point that electricity wires snaking along the open wall rather than behind plasterboard, however short on supplies they are, is a long way from ‘perfectly fine’)).

Anyway, he asked me about what I thought about Nick. I gave him the truth (I wanted to strangle him, then suddenly it turns out he’s a terrorist… and then a freedom fighter, and then a model citizen) and he said that he raised the boy well. I made the connection at that point, and he confirmed that Nick was his Son, and the reason that he did this.

He then explained how he used to believe in Zootopia. Said that he thought that with the right dress and attitude, your species didn’t matter. And then on one day, he had to both strap a Tame collar to his son’s neck and deal with having all his hopes crumpled up, thrown into his face, before being spat on. He talked about how he’d all but confirmed a loan for a new shop, only for the bank owner to throw it out the moment he saw that he was a Fox.

And then an innocent misunderstanding had resulted in a five-year-old Nick being hauled off, terrified, by a Rhino guard and receiving his first shock. How he’d tried to rescue him, only to receive a brutal six second shock in return. And he said that knowing his Son was seeing him like that hurt more than his collar ever could…

.

After that, he decided that his Son could never have a decent life in Zootopia, or anywhere where collars were required. And that meant that they had to strike out on their own. So, for three years he planned and organised, getting the right people together, before that irritating little Rat stole a collar key for them and they set off…

And he said that, before he met said Rat, he was almost caught. He said that, as he approached someone who he thought would be an ally, he spotted the lead of a recording device and realised it was a trap. And he said that, had he not chosen to buy a blueberry pie a few minutes before, he’d have blabbed all his plans, incriminated his wife, and likely be put away in solitary for the rest of his life…

.

I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. For what he did. He’s a deep, nice person… Who’d likely be a good friend of my own father if they ever met… And he did all this. All those people out there trust him enough to follow him. To vote him in as mayor multiple times. And speaking to him, I trust him too.

Even the little niggle that I was told in my youth, to always take the words of a Fox with a pinch of salt at minimum… I couldn’t even feel that way if I tried.

He’s a gentle soul alright. It would be a sin to lock him up like that, and I think he knows that if that had happened he’d likely be driven mad.

.

But he risked it all… And looking out, I can really see why.

.

But the trouble is, I still feel too timid and too shy to go out there. Looking out there, yes, loads of those mammals are Kids. But many of them dwarf me. And it’s funny, given that I can easily take down a Polar Bear mob enforcer and a ‘secret agent’ Fox who were trying to double-team me… But there’s a whisper in my ear saying that those kids pose more risk than Mr Vulpes and his Ursine friend. And I can sort of guess why, given that going out there with my guard down, it would only be a matter of time before a child does as children do and go over the top…

.

But still, most of me is telling myself that that’s insane. Ludicrous! That they’re all children! And I want that part to win. I need that part to win and I think it will, eventually. It has to.

.

It’s like dipping yourself into cold water. I’m currently at the poolside, dipping my toe in and shivering. The trouble is getting kicked in isn’t really an option. At the same time, procrastinating like this isn’t really an option either. (While refusing to do so is completely out)

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I just hope I’ll get there, eventually.

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3rd May, 16.

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So today I happened to have a conversation with one of Nicks children, a teenage Kit called Oscar. He also brought along little Anita ~~Fox~~   ~~Vulpes~~ Wilde.

Oscar was quite talkative at first, asking me all about Zootopia. What it was like to go partying and stuff in a big club (I just said very, very fun until you wake up in the morning and find out what _exactly_ you’d been doing after downing too many carrot vodka’s.)

His face then lit up, he pointed me and said (and I quote): ‘It’s the Vodka Witch! Can I have your autograph!”

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Suffice to say I feigned ignorance and asked: ‘what is this vodka witch?’

.

He then looked quite sad and disappointed. However, for lying there I think Karma had decided to give me a little payback, as I had to endure Oscar explaining to me:

A: What the Vodka Witch was: a crazy rabbit who’s the best partier in Zootopia.

B: What she does on her ‘legendary public appearances’: The silliest karaoke impersonations ever and incredibly funny attempts at pole dancing that always end in disaster. He also mentioned about her jumping out of three story windows and using a police woman’s cap as a parachute; juggling a trio of mice who were out partying and doing a gibbon impersonation while swinging from a deer’s antlers. Sadly, I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t do these as it would blow my cover…

.

Oh Sweet cheese and crackers. Maybe I did do them and just don’t remember? It certainly explains the policewoman’s helmet for one thing.

.

And C: The legends about her: That she only comes out on the full moon, with the purpose of distracting bar patrons while her twin sister goes about battling crime in the city (maybe my Sis Jill is doing all this partying and has become the Vodka Witch 2.0?). Alternatively, that she’s develop a wide range of superpowers (super-healing… strength… speed… jumping) and teamed up with an equally endowed set of other superheroes. These include one with the same powers, as well as hyper echolocation given that she’s blind; another that’s a mech suit piloted by a punk mouse and finally another who’s the vodka witches husband…

And said husband (according to legend) does ludicrously out of character things here and there (like threatening to murder his daughter’s new boyfriend, even though he personally knows him to be a stand-up guy). As for superpowers… he can reportedly yell a really trite and cheesy speech about getting along at a bunch of desperate rioters and immediately make them stop in their tracks by appealing to their better selves. This is despite said speeches being reportedly notorious for their rambling and unrousing feel; their terrible comma usage/ sentence structure and multiple horrible mid-sentence breaks to explain bits of slang that anyone with half a braincell can understand.

.

When I asked Oscar how they knew that the punctuation and grammar of a speech that they only heard was terrible, he just replied that everyone on the message boards he occasionally browsed said that ‘they could tell’.

.

We talked for a bit more after that. He said that for a long time he’d wanted to visit Zootopia, and was still curious enough to save up his allowance and buy slots at the towns ‘internet café’ every week to look at what was going on.

I noticed the ‘long time’ and asked him about it.

He then asked me why the Prey mammals were so scared of Preds like him, even though they hadn’t done anything to harm us for millennia.

I said that I’d been taught to be wary of Preds by my parents, and even though I dismissed a lot of what they said, I still had a problem deep down.

He then asked me why my parents had taught me that…

I said because they’re parents taught them, and as they thought the lessons had kept them safe, they taught me.

He then asked if that had been going on ever since Preds made peace with Prey.

I said he was probably right.

Little Anita then asked me if I was scared of her. And I, truthfully, said no. She’s a cute, tiny little arctic fox kit and there was no way she could harm me. And no reason she would want to harm me.

.

She then asked if I was scared of Oscar, or her nieces (still a bit funny that she’s younger than her nieces and nephew). I said no, for the same reasons.

.

Then she asked about her new Dad and her new Mum. I hadn’t seen much of Nick’s mother, but I told her about the meeting I had with John yesterday and said that, in my opinion, he was a fantastic person and a great fellow. I said I wasn’t scared of him.

.

And then she asked about her brother… Nick.

I reminded her that he’d darted me. Kidnapped me. Locked me in a cage for three days. Put a collar on me and called me a Dumb Bunny!

She then said that I’d broken his arm (when I told her I only dislocated his shoulder, she maintained that it was essentially the same thing); called him mean things; attempted to ‘ear him’ to death and been a ‘nasty bully’. He’d also offered me a bath, and called me an honoured guest…

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I said that I _really_ didn’t like him, but I wasn’t scared of him.

.

And at that, she opened out her paw, and asked me to come down with me. I couldn’t really turn down a cute little offer like that, so I followed. Down into the tailoring store below… and then out into the open of the town.

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Small steps at a time, but I think I’m slowly getting used to this.

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4th May, 16.

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Okay. First off, a word about Nick’s Wife. **You mean the magnificent Hester, yes?**

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Reading someone’s diary isn’t cool. It’s a rude, cruel and thoroughly nasty action. **It’s fun though…**

.

BUT READING AND THEN WRITING IN COMMENTS?

Urrrghhh. I mean why on earth would any mammal do that? **When you eventually read this, you’ll see my comment above. Won’t you my dumbybunny vodka witch?**

.

Now, back in Zootopia, I thought Nick was irritating. Always there, taunting me… Suave, sly, mysterious and always running circles around me. At most, he likely saw me as nothing more than a nuisance. Still, he was able to drive me half mad! **You and me both Sis (though admittedly in very different fashions ;P) ).**

However, I’m now glad that it wasn’t his wife coming over here and doing all that stuff! Nick was irritating yes, but only because I was pushing and pursuing him. His Wife, though, is an absolute minx and likely the cheekiest, rudest mammal I’ve ever had the displeasure to lay my eyes on! **I don’t know, have you ever looked in a mirror?**

…Is there something about me that attracts thoroughly irritating personality’s… Like, am I a light and all the irritating people flicker towards me like moths? **I’ve heard people of similar personalities attract you know? Though that doesn’t explain how I met you… Might be karma punishing me for something I did in a past life.**

But still, none of them would ever go far enough to both read and then put in a comment in my diary! And Mrs Vulpes better not do it again. You understand?  **…Sorry, what was the question again?**

I don’t want to open this up in the future and find a second ‘dumbybunny!’ **Ooops…. Too late now. Might as well shoot the moon. Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny…**

You hear me?

**Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny, Dumbybunny…**

Well, if you do then SCREW YOU FOR READING MY DIARY! AGAIN! SERIOUSLY, YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS?!

 **Do you want your secret identity as the karaoke singing, antler swinging, rodent juggling, crime fighting vodka witch to remain a secret?** **I think we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement… MUHAHAHAHA!**

Anyway… rant over. **About time…**

.

Anyway, after finally coming out of my hermit hole, I actually explored the town a bit. Never going out of sight of the town hall tower mind you, but still… It’s an interesting place. I’ve lived in the suburban burrows for most of my life, while also visiting family out in rural Bunnyburrow. This place is both a lot more modern than that place, but also more rural as well (or maybe rustic would be a better word) given that everything is nicely built out of rough grey stone or (in the case of lots of the buildings further out) whole wooden logs. The result is that, even though nothing here is older than three decades (and all the stones and stuff are very clean and in good condition), it looks a lot older than things of a similar age back in the city. Now, bar the three wheel jokemobile, having a car here would be an absolute nightmare given that the widest road couldn’t fit two of the largest cruisers on the force side by side (and that’s including the fact that there are no pavements on either side… it’s just road. Or more specifically the road is all pavement). Now, with a lot of things, I can sort of understand that. I mean, having to cut stone themselves and lay it out… you don’t want to do any more of than you need to do you?

And for such a small place, they’ve got a better public transport system than decent parts of Zootopia that’s for sure. Little electric trams (made from hobbyist track brought over from Zootopia of all things) scooting about here and there. They’ve got a longer one that shoots over the river to the south to their fields and such, before snaking out into the forest (apparently to a limestone quarry or something) and are building a big one up the nearby mountain to help them build new dams or stuff…

Wherever I go, I can’t help but notice that everyone is really proud of everything they’ve done around here, in a way I’ve never seen in Zootopia. I mean, Nick seemed to have more pride in his flushing toilet than most Zootopian’s have in the friggin’ climate wall!

 

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Now, I do have one complaint… Food.

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Not that they’re not feeding me, no. I mean, I’ve just got back from a nice picnic out in their backyard/ Nicks front yard (Nicks house was built in his parents back garden… I mean, I’ve got no right to talk given that I live in a communal Burrow, but you can’t help but get some dodgy connotations from that, can you?) where I had raw carrots, raw lettuce, grass and… well, nothing much else.

You see, unlike back in Zootopia, a working cooker is actually quite a luxury and thus most people get their food from takeaways or canteens. And these are all geared to predatory diets, so lots of bugs, fish and other stuff. Sadly, they haven’t really put any thought into providing rabbit food (bar the basics) and it’s getting a bit tiring.

.

Thankfully, I’ve poked into a few of these places and spotted that a fair few do nice vegetable stews; oat pastries/ flapjacks as well as pastries and such…

Hopefully tomorrow food will be better, given that I’ve talked to my hosts about it.

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Another interesting development, Nick asked me if I wanted to go to the nearby school to meet the students. I said yes, given that I want to get out of my shell some more. In any case, it can’t be that bad… I mean, it’s not like Mrs Vulpes is running it or anything, is it?

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**Heh…. Heh…. Heh…. (rubs paws together with masochistic glee)…**

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5th May, 16

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SCREW YOU HESTER!!!!!

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SCREW YOU! SCREW YOU! SCREW YOU!

.

I mean that single Dumbybunny was bad enough! But, as well as reading and violating my diary, you decided to taunt and humiliate me in front of a class of children!

Damn it, when I finish writing this all down, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…. Ooooh, You’re gonna have to put a collar back on me! I mean, did I make any promises yesterday… let me just check….

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Okay….

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At least those kits didn’t know I was the vodka witch. Thanks for not telling them that Hester, though of course you chose not too as you’re too clever to let go of your leverage.

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But still… You do understand how uncool this is, right? **I have no idea of what you’re talking about.**

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Maybe though, if I made everything brief and compact, I at least wouldn’t have to face these annoying comments. Right! HYPERCOMPACT WRITING GO!

What next, well… I’m not going to write about the most humiliating part of the day given that I don’t want to remember it. The day started innocently enough, walking to the school. Being greeted by the kits, cubs and pups there… having them feel up my ears and stuff which was… at first a bit weird but then it got very nice. A bit clingy here and there, but many of the children had never seen a rabbit before and were curious.

Sadly, this curiosity extended to tail pinching… but you can’t have everything can you?

In any case, the crowd was quickly dispersed by the call of one of the teachers… much to the displeasure of Hester who was standing next to her and talking about how the children needed more ‘hands on learning experiences’.

At this stage, I gauged that this day might not be as much of a piece of cake as I expected…

.

The first part of it was actually quite nice. It was like the old carrots day festival I went to, where you told everyone the history of the city and what it meant to be growing up in it…

Admittedly, as soon as we got past the Predator and Prey part (with notably low adjective use) things changed up. They talked about how ‘Predators evolved beyond their old ways, but Prey could never let go…’. Then then mentioned how ‘Prey treated Preds badly for thousands of years, often driving them out of their communities. These Preds often formed their own countries, which were often attacked by the Prey’. We then get to the turn of the century and the union of mammal states and ‘the predator problem’. AKA, how Prey mammals still were mean and nasty to Preds, and decided that they needed to be ‘tamed’. This lead to an open competition and the invention of the tame collars.

There was a lot of booing and stamping of feet at that point.

We then had the countries that refused these things being invaded and forced to adopt them. After that, there was a long talk on how miserable life was in the collars (one young talented actor doing a very convincing shake and jitter on the floor, even throwing out yellow and light blue strips of fabric) as well as a slight towards me… using me as an example of Prey mammals who thought this evil thing was perfectly fine… Name and all.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure I saw a suspiciously familiar bobcat in the background…

Maybe I’m just paranoid. In any case, I do feel a bit guilty at calling Gid all those things all that long ago, even though it’s all water under the bridge.

Rather than a ‘what you want to be when you grow up’ stage, we then had Nick’s father come on stage. He talked about how, in the city of Zootopia where Pred and Prey were supposed to get on with each other, Preds at the least had to wear collars and, if you were a Fox or something, you were considered sneaky, untrustworthy… etc. He said he once believed in Zootopia, but the day he had to put a collar on his Son and had an almost done deal torn up as he was a fox, he gave up. He said that the only way to have a decent life was to start again in a new city where there were no collars and thus, he had to build one. Bits about secretly organising mammals to work together, getting the equipment, the boat and the first collar key… After that, it was literally plain sailing.

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And that’s about all I’m going to say. Because I’m not going to mention what happens next.

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**Aren’t you?**

**Shame…**

**In that case, I might as well do it for you…**

**.**

**You see, on hearing that my Nicky had brought back a Bunny, a lot of my students were very interested and asked a LOT of questions. I blew them off by saying that I’d find a way of bringing you in to do a nice little Q &A.**

**.**

**You came in, a little nervous, but you gave a small smile as you meekly waved to them. I didn’t bother with any house-rules, as in my view censoring the education of young minds like that is quite unethical. So, I had you in and threw you to the lions!**

**Well… the one lion and just over two dozen others….**

**.**

**First question: Why are Prey so horrible and mean and make poor Preds wear collars?**

**.**

**The only time I’ve ever seen a mammal squirm like that involved my little Cass, when she was four or so, playing outside for ages and confidently declaring that no, she didn’t need the toilet…**

**To be fair, this probably led to the second question, is it true that Bunnies like you poop pellets? (Ah seven year olds, you have to love them).**

**Seizing on this, you shouted yes. At that point, I made the astute observation that you weren’t deaf or mute, so maybe you could answer the first question.**

**You in response said that Prey mammals were scared of Preds, and wanted to keep their family’s safe. You then added that some Prey mammals opposed the collars, and she’d learnt that they were both horrible and there was no need for them.**

**Third question: Why were Prey so scared, given the thousands of years since anyone ate anyone?**

**You gave some mumbo jumbo about parents telling their children, who told their children… all while never meeting any Preds…**

**Fourth question: Why couldn’t you guys just leave the Preds who wanted to be alone, alone…**

**.**

**I couldn’t help but get a bit of satisfaction as you admitted to Prey mammals being quite, quite nasty… Well. At first you said that many Prey thought the Pred countries were evil, and that by defeating them they were being good guys and heroes… But, in any case, you squirmed and eked through all of that before I summarised it with the ‘quite, quite, nasty’ observation.**

**But hey! You still said yes after all that!**

**.**

**Now, onto the questions about biology…**

**Do you like biology Judy?**

**A lot of Prey mammals liked it, or at least liked using it, to explain why they could be quite, quite nasty all the time.**

**.**

**When you started getting questions about ‘Are Bunnies always in heat’ and ‘what is heat?’**

**.**

**Oooh, you turned sooo red didn’t you? So, so red…. And before you could try and explain, more came.**

**Why do Bunnies have some many children? Do you want a hundred children? How do you make children? Why are your ears so long? Can I lick your ears? Can I touch your tail?**

**.**

**.**

**Never forget this Judy…. Never ever forget….**

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6th May, 16

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Right… Hester… She’s only a vixen to me…

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But if she keeps this up she’ll be even more of a mortal enemy than Bucky and Pronk. Hmmm, Hess, if you promise to keep out of my diary, I might retail you with tales of these two. Deal? **Deal. But if I don’t laugh I demand a refund…**

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Anyway. I’ve been going out a lot more. Exploring the town. It’s quite disconcerting to always be the centre of attention wherever you go, especially when you get the feeling that some of that attention isn’t the good kind.

I asked one of the Mules that came over on the boat about how he could cope with the stares. He just said that being so unique he got plenty back in Zootopia too, so was used to them. In any case, having a medical degree and filling in that role meant he was appreciated. He was quite enjoying having looks of appreciation instead of looks of confusion.

He also said that they all knew that I was a cop who’d been pursuing Nick, given what was going on in the news. I asked about that, and he directed me to one of the barn things that was built in the town hall. They’ve got a feed of the ZNN channel playing onto a projector, and lots of people curious about the state in the city (particularly recent arrivals) were looking at it.

And it turns out I’m on the news!

.

So… there’s a whole lot of Pred protests going on in the city. What with the Woolly scandal and such, there were already plenty of annoyed Preds who were getting a lot more vocal. But as details of what he was censoring came out, often articles that thoroughly rejected the need for the collars, they decided that they’d had enough. On the night I was taken, a few thousand Preds marched into the ticket halls of every station in the city and chained themselves to the turnstiles. The next day, the entire city was in chaos. The police tried to remove some of those who were protesting, only to find out that more Preds were protecting them from removal.

.

It took them the whole day to remove those protestors, but by then it was already too late. The entire Zootopian Pred population had decided enough was enough.

Every bus depot in the city was swarmed with protestors and tires were slashed, meaning the vehicles were stuck inside come morning. The same for the Taxi’s. Concrete was poured in the point systems of the trams, while the open sections of the closed metro system suffered the same fate.

By the time I was enjoying my bath, half the city had seized up. Unless you could walk or bike to work, you were screwed.

As for the Pred workers? On strike. All of them. A huge chunk of the city’s workers just put down their tools and walked out, led by Gazelle and her tiger dancers who were using their fortune to bankroll their food and rent. The news cameras just show huge crowds in the central city plaza, all sitting down and singing ‘Born free’. There are a few occasions where I can see my former workmates by the side-lines. Even with the razorbacks by their side, they are completely outnumbered and likely thankful that there’s no real violence so far.

There were some anchors arguing for troops or other police officers to be brought in, but it seems like the whole of Mammalia is in trouble too. Canidaea has pulled up two middle fingers to the states that stopped them holding a vote before (always claiming it put their security at risk, and thus they had a legal right to vote on whether the Canideans could hold said vote) and finally done it. It was won in a landslide and there are pictures of huge collar bonfires and celebrations in the streets. Of course, those states who always objected are screaming and protesting. In this case, as well as implementing travel bans (not that the direction of Pred travel would be going in their direction in all of this) they’re physically blocking the united congress from doing anything until they send the troops in and break Canidaea up like they did to Katavulpia…

Which is currently undergoing a full-blown military rebellion. Explosions… Firing squads… uncollared and armed Pred forces hoisting the flag of the old empire up on the top of the granite palace….

.

And all through this chaos, I’ve been upset about Hester writing in my diary….

Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?

Now, Swinton through all of this has been calling for calm and order. She definitely knows that this could turn ugly fast, and has been congratulating the protestors for remaining peaceful. Still… she’s quite angry at all this, and to be fair I can’t really blame her given that it’s her city.

The news from Canidaea would certainly act as a pressure release (many of these Preds knowing they can try to move there in the future if they wish). However, she’s floating the idea of building a wall around Happytown and creating a collar free zone as an appeasement measure.

Gazelle says this isn’t enough. That they should be banned immediately, and she’s planning a concert to promote said cause in the next week or so.

Many of the punters meanwhile are saying it’s far too much and the police should just collar remote all of the protestors.

Still… Swinton’s making the most of a bad situation, all while trying to weasel out of it.

.

It also seems that she’s got my old diary.

And while she isn’t giving out any of the personal details, she’s talking all about the ‘mysterious Fox’ who I went to investigate… before vanishing into thin air. Talk about how both sides shouldn’t consider themselves as just evil… or just good… or something or other.

.

Still. I would not like to be in her trotters.

.

.

.

7th May, 16

.

Okay…

.

Urghhh….

.

Damn this day was a bummer.

.

I really, really didn’t expect this. All this surprise and happiness… me getting along with them all, and then…

.

Well, last night there was a big gathering at the town hall that I wasn’t allowed to go to. Lots of talking, lots of shouting and what seemed like a vote. Then Nick and Co came home. I asked Nick what it was about, and he said that his father (John) had decided that all the stuff going on in Zootopia meant that he needed to return there for a bit.

Now, that’s not the bad thing. The bad thing happened as we all dined tonight. Nick and all his relatives along with me. Nine mammals around the table, and I commented that it was almost as crowded as the crazy gatherings that happened both last night and several days ago, back when I was still a hermit. I didn’t remember seeing a vote in that one, so I asked them what it was all about. In response Nick asked me if there was one question that I hadn’t asked yet.

.

I couldn’t think of one, and then he verbally nudged me towards the (third) night I tried to arrest him…

.

“So, Nick?” I asked, suddenly feeling rather too cleaver for myself. “Just why were you drilling a hole into the side of a hospital?”

So, then he mentioned things about there being some medicines that they couldn’t make over here, and that the only way to get them was to ‘forcibly purchase’ them.

.

Things went quiet for a bit, and I thought about what kind of medicines they’d be getting. It was then I remembered one of the Mixie shot days back in my family’s burrow, and the huge crowds there. I asked, out loud, whether he was stealing vaccinations or something.

He said that yes, he was acquiring them. All three of his children then joked about getting their shots and such.

.

I could have left it there. I could have shut up… But no, I decided to put in a nice little joke. Calling Nick old ‘super-jabber. Chasing kids down so that, wherever they go, they’ll still live in fear of their shots.”

.

The silence after that was deafening, and I remember feeling this grave feeling that I’d suddenly said something very wrong. Nick went very broody, as did his parents, and I could tell that there was pain in their eyes. Then, one of his daughters (the really tomboyish one) did something to lighten the mood (I think she pulled a face) and Nick scolded her.

He said, “Not now Lynn!” Before he quickly corrected himself by saying “Cass…”

.

The mood was still tense and I was… curious, to say the least. I’d heard him call the girl Cass many times, but I thought that it might be short for something. I asked and she said yes, her full name is “Cassandra Lynn Vulpes.”

I said it was a sweet name, and asked her if her Dad called her by her middle name often.

.

Nick interrupted, telling me coldly that he didn’t and it was just a slip.

.

I said Cassandra was a nice name, and I asked him why he chose it. He lightened up a bit, telling me about how she’d coughed, making a ‘cass’ sound when he was thinking of a name for her and, after thinking through several options, he chose Cassandra. But she was still his little runt, Cass.

.

I then asked about the Lynn bit… and he said he named her after someone. I could tell he was trying to deflect something, so pressed him. He said that he used the name of his sister, and could I leave it at that.

.

I was stupid. I was an idiot. I didn’t leave it. I asked why she wasn’t here, whether she was back in Zootopia or…

Well. I didn’t get much further. The rather large bang on the table shut me up. Then there was his growling… And looking around, I noticed his parents looking very worried and upset.

.

He asked me if I wanted to visit her, and I said it would be nice.

.

He put his knife and fork on his plate, said he’d lost his appetite and led me out straight there and then. He was walking very quickly, dragging me along behind him despite my protests…

We went up through narrow streets and weaved all over the place, and I was wondering ‘did they fall out’; ‘did they fight’…

I remember that, as we made our way to a park, Nick turned to face me and, for the first time, I saw tears in his eyes.

And then I realised that we weren’t at a park.

We were at a graveyard…

.

I think I said “sorry” a lot, as we walked through the place until we reached a small monument, covered in sprouting foxgloves. Nick said, “Hey Sis…” and started introducing me…

.

And then I saw the gravestone.

.

Lynn Francine Wilde… Taken from us too soon by Distemper… Age eight…

.

She was eight years old…

.

Eight years old, and this disease had come through and killed her.

.

I remember looking up at Nick point, and he was sobbing… all while gently rubbing her name with one of his pads.

.

Looking back now…

.

Damn… I mean, I just don’t know what it would be like. To lose someone that close to you… I put my paw on Nick’s shoulder and said that he could cry on me, or talk to me.

He said he was fine. He stood up, and led me back to the house.

.

I haven’t spoken a word since then. My dumb bunny mouth has cause too much pain this night. And Hester? If you’re reading this, tell Nick that I really am sorry. Tell him that his parents are heroes. That he is a hero. And I’m just a dumbybunny who thought she was a hero, found out she actually a villain, and now doesn’t really know what to think.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**…Urgh, fine…  Sometimes I think I have to do all the work around here….**


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43.**

.

It had been a week since John had left for Zootopia. For much of that time, life had gone on like usual. The sun had shined, the wind had blown and the rain had fallen. Judy, despite her initial trepidations, ventured out more often and for longer. If anything, it wasn't the instilled fear of Predators that dissuaded her, rather the innate curiosity that many of the children had in her. A whole generation had grown up without ever seeing a Prey mammal, and the requests to stroke her ears and feel her teeth were getting very tiresome.

There was also the 'C-word', though Judy didn't dare say that she found it irritating. With time to think tactically, she'd worked out that the best way to stave off the teasing from Hester was to simply deny her any ammunition.

Then, it was on one of those slow mornings that she heard the news. Her parents had received the letter she'd penned to stay their fears, and the knowledge that she was safe was headlining the Zootopian news channels. With nothing much else to do, and an ever-burning curiosity to the state of her home city, Judy found herself relaxing on one of the bean-bags in the cinema-like hall, watching the news with curious eyes.

.

"This is Peter Moosebridge, with the latest headlines," the anchor said, sternly looking into the camera as he read from the teleprompter. "A sudden development has appeared in the case of ZPD Junior detective Judy Hopps, who vanished eighteen days ago while investigating the suspicious activities of the Fox 'Nicholas Vulpes'. Her parents have stated that they received a letter from their daughter, stating that she is alive and well, though unable to return to Zootopia until… as she put it, 'the terrible injustice that is the collar system, which I shamefully supported for all my life, is ended'. We now cut to Chief Bogo of the ZPD, who is holding a press conference on the situation…

Judy's eyes widened in shock as her old boss came into view on the screen. His face, through the intrusion of the sound booms and camera flashes, looked like it had aged by a decade and half. His fur was all untrimmed while deep bags hung under his eyes which, rather than showing their normal fury, were sunken and lifeless. Even his voice, which could normally instil the fear of god into any person, had changed. The fire that had fuelled it was still there, but it was merely simmering embers instead of the usual inferno. All dulled and smothered by the stress of missing subordinates, full civil upheaval and an ever persistent and harrying press.

"Yes, the reports that we have had a letter from Judy Hopps is true," he said to the baying crowd. "And the political statements expressed in it are in favour of the current…. troublemakers, and their aims."

"Chief Bogo!" one of the reporters shouted out. A Bunny, like Judy, and wide eyed and evidently angry. "How do we know that this isn't forged? Or that Mrs Hopps was tortured into writing this by these Chomper extremists who you dismiss as 'troublemakers!'"

The chief sighed, resting his forehead on a hoof and grunted as the answer hungry crowd roared at him. Judy looked up at him, until a soft nudging at her side distracted her. Looking over, she smiled as she saw Skye settle down next to her. "Do you think he has a headache?" she asked, causing Judy to chuckle.

"I think so, yes," Judy replied. "He's giving out the look which, back at the force, we called the 'I've already said this twenty times today and if I say it again I've got half a mind to hammer you into the ground' look…"

Whatever the state of Bogo's head, it had cleared enough for him to grovel out his reply, indeed sounding like he'd explained it twenty or so times previously in the day (to the same brown Bunny buck, at that). "We have strong evidence, from the handwriting analysis, that Hopps was in a good condition when she wrote this. As it includes mentions of activities from the last week, along with family matters that only she would know about, it is evident that this is all recent and made in good jest. Given my experience working with Hopps, it would be likely that she would try and send out a signal or hidden clue of some kind if she were not in the state that she claims she is in."

"Chief!" Another reporter shouted. "This officer is being held by terrorists in league with those protesting outdoors, right now! Why the hell has the ZPD's response been so pathetic? We need to go in with collar remotes and live ammunition!"

"BOOO!" Skye shouted, her voice intermingling with the sound of the murmuring of the crowd.

"As chief of the ZPD," Bogo said, "I am sworn by my duty not to use measures reserved for violent criminals and enemy soldiers on a bunch of peaceful protestors. We must remember that, so far, that that is what those outside are. In any case, while they have certainly cause major disruption to the city, they haven't caused chaos and rioting. Whatever way you look at it, our forces are heavily outnumbered and, whatever your political view, it is best not to wake a sleeping mammoth, isn't it?"

"BULLCRAP!" the same reporter shouted, "LITERAL CRAP FROM A BULL!" Bogo snorted, put his papers down and began walking off, but it didn't disturb the rant being thrown in his direction. "FACE IT! YOU'VE LET THESE SAVAGES WIN! YOU CAN'T COPE WITH THEM! THIS CITY SHOULD BE DECLARED A DISASTER AREA…!"

.

* * *

 

.

"Strong words there, Strong words," Peter Moosebridge commented, as the camera returned to face him. "Indeed, many people are saying the same things, given the state of current Predator protests across the city. The entire transit system is still shut down, while many public and private businesses that remain open are having serious issues given their loss of workforce as Predators, both on the lower end and the higher end of the careers ladder, have backed out to protest. While Mayor Swinton did request for military forces to be supplied in order to ensure calm in the streets, said request has been denied due to near universal shortages across the continent. Similar protests are occurring all over Mammalia, bar Canidaea which has thrown the collars out after a vote. Mayor Swinton has offered up a similar vote in order to turn the Happytown district into a collar free zone but the protestors, led by pop singer and leader of the 'collardarity movement' Gazelle, have rejected this. We now move over to central city plaza, where much of the protesting is occurring and Gazelle herself plans to stage an impromptu concert later tonight."

The camera cut to face the singer. She was in the middle of the great crowd of protesting predators, a guitar laying by her feet and her four backup tigers smiling and waving by her side. A new reporter was standing by her, and already querying her about her stance. Looking on, Judy's ears rose up to listen to what the pop diva had to say. Unnoticed to her, however, was Skye's reaction. The Silver Fox vixen stood up and began walking to the side, her head tilting as if trying to get a better view.

"Si! That is true," the Pop Diva replied firmly. "I believe, just like I have for a long time, that we need to abolish these evil collars universally. Ideally, right now!"

"And what about the risk of increased violent crime?"

Gazelle snorted, shaking her head at the idea. "Really? You still believe that nonsense… Do you not realise that everything is corrupt? We never needed the collars and, if you remember all the things that none other than the assistant mayor was censoring, there is proof of that!" She waved over to her dancers, who came in and hugged her tight. "The lives of these poor innocent souls, who've been unfairly judged and mistreated ever since they were born, shouldn't be in the hands of cruel mammals who've never met a Predator, yet think they know them like the back of their hoof! We demand complete freedom, not the mayors compromise, for all, NOW!"

Judy nodded in agreement, before glancing over to see Skye, the vixen's head tilted sharply to the side. "Seen something?" she asked, but Skye was too busy concentrating to answer.

"And what, per chance, will you do if this utopian dream of yours is ever fulfilled?" The reporter asked.

The singer just rolled her eyes and squeezed her tigers into an ever-closer embrace. "I am going to make continual hot and savage love with all four of these guys for at least a week…"

Far away, Skye gasped. "I was right!" she shouted, pointing to the screen. Judy glanced at her, before lifting her head to face where she was pointing. Her eyes widened, her paw over her open mouth, as she saw John Wilde, smiling, on the news. She turned to face Skye and speak, only to be cut off by Gazelle…

"And trust me," she said, looking straight into the camera. "It is not a utopian dream. The word 'if', is most inappropriate… 'When' has a far better fit, don't you think boys?" The four tigers nodded, as Gazelle continued. "And regardless, as Canidaea has proven, it isn't a utopian dream… It is within our grasp."

"And what if they all realise they've made a mistake?" the reporter asked. "At least we should wait several years, maybe a decade, to make sure this is safe?"

Gazelle snickered slightly, and Judy couldn't help by notice a sly smile appear on John as well. "Don't worry, I'll be giving out some pretty persuasive arguments at my concert tonight. Whether you live in Zootopia, or far away across the sea, you don't want to miss this for the world!"

The camera cut off, snapping back to the main studio where Peter Moosebridge was waiting. "Strong words there," he commented. "Indeed, this channel will be covering the events of this concert including Gazelle's 'world changing announcement'. While I'm certain it'll create some excitement, it'll be interesting to see if it's as much of a bombshell as our Angel in Horns claims…"

Little did he know though that, far away and across the sea, it already was.

.

* * *

 

.

When news of the upcoming event, and John's connection, hit Pinehaven, the whole town become busier than Judy had ever remembered. Skye had raced out with Judy to tell her family, as did the few others who'd been watching it with them. By the time the news rolled around again, playing a repeat of the same interview, the barn area that had once held a harvest feast for the entire town was crowded with mammals. The time after that, the towns few peacekeepers had been forced to push away the crowds to stop a crush.

Within hours, the other halls and meeting areas all around the town had their TV or projector systems turned on. Still, though, it was not enough. Huge lines snaked outside each of them, as those in charge tried to keep some semblance of order. Judy spotted Nick on a few occasions with a loudspeaker, telling people to get out and organise. She'd spotted Bears and Wolves with families of Weasels, Meerkats, Foxes or Otters on their shoulders, all lining up outside. Others were going around, counting them off and seeing if they could all fit in.

And hour by hour, the concert got closer and closer.

.

* * *

 

.

Three hours before, Cass walked by Judy. The energetic Red Fox couldn't help but talk about what she thought was going on. Were they going to declare war on the evil Prey? Were they going to ask all the Predators to come over and join them. Would they be revealing some super-secret that her Dad had found, just like they'd done with the role that Woolly had played. Judy smiled, shrugging as she guessed that the town was finally going to reveal itself to the world.

As she watched the young vixen walk out into the back garden, Judy's ears piqued as she heard the front door open and a pair of heavy paws walk forward. It wasn't long before a large old Wolf came in, looking very proud of himself. He glanced at Judy, his mouth piquing with some interest, before he asked her where Marie was. A few pointers later, and the Vixen and Wolf were in deep conversation. Judy didn't catch his name, but noticed that he was well built and fit, but at the same time looked chiselled and worn by the elements. However, his eyes were alight with pride.

"The old guard isn't out of touch yet! Oh, the look of envy on Honey's face when she realised that she didn't come up with this one!"

"I hope she wasn't too upset," Marie commented, a disappointed look growing on her face as the Wolf snickered in response.

"She went and began moving a projector and speaker system as I asked. But as she did so, I couldn't help but notice a very annoyed look on her face."

Marie's ears piqued. "Where are they moving all of it?"

"We're going to hang the screen out of the town hall, and project onto that."

Marie blinked a few times, before raising a finger. "They said that the concert is starting at half eight, didn't they? It'll be far too bright to see it!"

"Yes, I know. Half eight," Al proudly said… "Zootopia time!"

Marie blinked a few times, before slapping her face with her palms. "Of course! I forgot we moved our clocks an hour ahead! It'll be dark by the time…"

"Well. It'll certain solve the crowding issue! Right, back to work. And fortunately, we've got some extra time, haven't we?"

.

* * *

 

.

Three hours to go, this time it was Anita. The little Fox just walked in, tears flowing from her eyes, as she shouted at Judy. "YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!" She screamed, before racing off to Marie-Anne. Judy had run after her, asking her to calm down and tell her what she meant, only to stop as she saw the little Vixen in the arms of her mother. Marie had lifted her up, cradling her so she could cry into her neck fur, and be nuzzled back in response.

"What did I do?" Judy whispered, as Marie shrugged.

"Poor Anita thinks that you're making John reveal the town to the world," she said.

"Is he?" Judy queried.

Marie just let a snickering little grin grow on her muzzle. "That would be spoiling the fun, wouldn't it?" she said, before turning back to plant a kiss on Anita's ear, before giving the inside a long lick that made the Kit giggle with laughter through her sobs.

Judy frowned back, her foot tapping on the ground. "So, you're finally revealing yourself…"

"Maybe," Marie clarified, "Maybe not…"

"You understand that your lack of a straight no is highly incriminating?" Judy interrupted. "I am a police detective…"

"Junior detective," Marie clarified.

"And I am also not an idiot," Judy continued, only for Hester to pop in the back door and interrupt.

"But you are a dumbybunny!"

As she left, Judy fumed silently for a few seconds before Marie, taking her muzzle out of a now calmed down Anita, gently spoke. "In any case, these rumours have got poor Anita quite worked up and stuff, you know how Kits can jump to conclusions. Heck, I saw Cass going around pretending to by a soldier, shooting down all the evil Prey soldiers… Well, until she realised that I was looking. You know what teenagers are like?"

"Trust me," Judy replied, "Even now I have a few crazy imaginary fantasies that I may or may not play out while I'm alone."

"Indeed," Marie said while nodding. "And poor Anita was trembling with fear. She was scared that it would mean we'd all have to wear collars and muzzles again."

Judy sighed, before turning towards little Anita. "Hey little girl," she said. "Don't worry, you're going to be perfectly safe. No collars. No muzzles. And I'm pretty sure your Dad has a great plan…"

"Oh…" Marie cooed, "He does. He always does…"

.

* * *

 

.

Two hours to go, and everything outside was getting organised. Preds were bringing out blankets and seats, laying them out and bringing food for the event. The canteens and restaurants that surrounded the park each had huge lines snaking back from them, while in the back garden of the Wilde house (and simultaneous front garden of the Vulpes house) matters had been taken into their own hand. An ancient oil drum, top and bottom cut off and its metal rusted and blistered from the heat, had been hoisted onto a set of large stones and a whirl of flames was roaring up inside. With another sheet of metal, its origin completely unknown to Judy, placed on top, a primitive barbeque had been started. The smell of grilling fish and shrimp, frying bug-burgers and all sorts of other hot, greasy, predator food didn't do much for Judy, but she came out regardless. For the first time that day she saw Nick up close, manning the grill and dolling out the food to his hungry skulk.

"Anything for me, Slick?" she shouted, and she was relieved when Nick looked back at her with a smile.

"Well, along with the bread and…" he began to say, before a sudden 'POP' interrupted him. There was another 'POP', then another, and another still, before they became so frequent it was like someone rapping their claws against a table. Judy's ears had lifted at the familiar sound, and her mouth began to water.

"Is that Popcorn?" she asked.

Nick looked at the pot the sounds were coming from and smiled. "It's a special something made to a special Wilde recipe! Come and try one."

Judy walked up and opened her mouth, pointing into it while making some hungry grunts. Nick just sighed as he took the pot off the heat and fished out one of the puffs from within. "Down the hatch it goes fluff!"

He flicked it in, the food landing into Judy's mouth before she could realise that it certainly wasn't popcorn. A hot, sticky, meaty taste exploded into her mouth, flooding in as she instinctively chewed before the shock of the unexpected flavour took over. She spat it out, before looking up at Nick with a furrowed brow and an insensately twitching nose.

"What?" he said, shrugging as he feigned innocence. "I never actually said it was popcorn! It's Mama Wilde's beetle puffs."

"Don't do that again!" Judy scowled, before pausing to lick the inside of her mouth…. Pondering the taste that still lingered there. "Can I have some more though?"

Nick couldn't help but snicker and neither, much to Judy's irritation, could Hester help but laugh out loud and call her a fellow Chomper.

.

* * *

 

.

One hour before, and everyone was out in the park. The sky was already turning orange and testing of the projector and sound system was well underway. Nick was off with the other organisers doing all of this, a few times calling to everyone and asking them to be quiet, making sure that the sound of the news could be heard clearly. Other times, the projector would flicker to life, and the faint outline of the news channel could be seen.

Judy, who apart from a slight feeling of queasiness in her stomach, was fine, was eagerly awaiting the whole thing to start. Anita still wasn't fond of her, and as she was in Marie's lap Judy had no intention of sitting with them. She had even less of an intention of sitting by Hester, who was sat with Oscar. Nick was somewhere in one of the barns, doing some work, and Cass was with a large group of others running around and killing time. That left Skye, who Judy sat with as the time slowly ticked by.

"Are you excited for this?" Judy asked. "Announcing to the world you exist…"

"I don't know," Skye shrugged, "though it'll be a bit a laugh…. As long as you Prey don't be major jerks like usual."

"Yeh," Judy replied. "But thinking back, I was a real major jerk. The kind of jerk you can only be if you are certain that you're not a jerk… the opposite of a jerk. Of course, that makes you even more of a jerk."

Skye just giggled, her paw up to her mouth while her earrings jiggled and swayed with her ears. Noticing them, and the little spots of garnet in them, Judy looked on for a bit before turning away.

"If you're that envious, I'm sure we could arrange something," Skye said, as she reached out and petted one of Judy's ears.

The does eyes went wide, as she pulled the ear down. "Please don't talk about piercing ears…" she said. "Bunny ears are so sensitive… it makes me queasy thinking about it."

Skye frowned slightly, before her mouth piqued. "Fine… but can I maybe pet your ear while we wait…"

"If you insist" Judy said reluctantly, before settling down. Skye, her paw out, gently held one of Judy's ears between her thumb pad and a finger pad. Softly turning, rotating, and moving, she passed the time by massaging Judy, while Judy passed the time by not showing her that she was enjoying this.

.

* * *

.

"We cut now to the Gazelle led protest, where the cities 'Angel with Horns' states that she had news which will make support for the collars impossible," Peter Moosebridge announced. "I have announced a good few shockers in my time, so let us see what is in stock today".

The camera cut to the central city plaza, outside the town hall. The great crowd of milling Preds and supporting Prey, most of the formers collars glowing orange in the dying light, were all waiting. Looking up, their eyes were fixed on the impromptu stage that Gazelle had erected, complete with a huge sound system and a massive projector.

Over five-hundred miles away, in a town nestled into a wild island, a second huge crowd of predators had their eyes fixed to the screen. The sky was an indigo purple here, the stars coming out, and a screen projecting the pop diva shining out. In this crowd, there were only four Prey mammals, including one Bunny. She held her breath, waiting for everything to begin.

.

"Good evening, Zootopia!" Gazelle shouted, as a rolling applause sailed over her. She took a long bow, before introducing a Red Fox to the stage. Dressed in a fine suit, he smiled and waved, before taking a bow. "I would like to introduce here a new friend of mine. His name is John Wilde, and a few days ago he came to me with an amazing story. A true story… A story that changes everything…"

The crowd had gone quiet, as John stood up to the microphone and spoke. "Kind words there, kind words indeed. I would like to introduce myself. My name is John Wilde, and Twenty-Four years ago, I was one of the first batch of mammals to be taken by the knights of the muzzle."

The entire crowd gasped, chattering among themselves at this. Looking to the side, Judy could see some of her old workmates on the force turn to each other in shock. John let them talk for a bit, patiently waiting, before continuing in his own time.

"There is a clarification to make, however. I wasn't taken. No one was taken. Instead, I went of my own free will. Just like everyone who the Knights took. Or rather, should I say, took up my offer."

"And tell me, John. What offer was this?" Gazelle asked, as the crowd looked on in shock.

"Tell me," John said, as he talked to the crowd. "What do we say to a bullied child? A scared child? A child who's punished for even existing… Some of us tell them to fight back. Others, however, tell them to run away. To not give their attackers the satisfaction of seeing them gotten too!" As he spoke his face and voice hardened, his paw raising into a fist as he began to speak from his heart.

"Twenty-seven years ago, this city forced me to tie a torture device to my own SON! MY OWN SON! My precious Son, my kind Son!, my Son who was nothing but happy! You forced me to watch him cry and scream, for the crime of running about or playing like kids do! I knew that as he grew up, he'd be whipped and bullied by the damn thing for the crimes of falling in love! For getting excited! For feeling passion! You tell our children to follow our hearts and believe in love… but being born a Predator makes those things crimes! And I was tired of fighting to be seen as an equal. Always smiling and being polite to those who spat in my face… So, I ran away…"

His voice trailed away as the screen behind him flickered to life, showing a print of an old picture. It showed a virgin bay, with a ship anchored in the middle. A new one flicked up, showing a group of Predators working on a set of houses. Then another, showing the town square Judy was currently in complete, though not much else.

"I partnered up with a group of likeminded Preds," John explained slowly, "we purchased a boat and supplies and, as no authority would believe we were genuine, stole a collar key. We settle on a set of uninhabited islands far to the east and never looked back. Those pictures are from twenty plus years ago… here's now."

The screen changed again, showing a picture of the town from the roof of the town hall's tower. It spread out in all directions, and hundreds of free predators could be seen milling about. Below, both John and Gazelle were smiling, as the former continued.

"We survived. We built. We expanded. We're peaceful and we're happy. In fact, our crime rate is a good deal lower than many 'peaceful' Prey only areas in your city… I've lived along Predators that would devour me in an instant if all your mad theories were true. Wolves… Lions… Tigers… If one of them went savage, I'd be dead in seconds. And it's not just Preds, we've had a few Prey allies visit us as well."

The screen flicked forward and a picture of a sunbathing Water vole, next to a bunch of other Preds, was shown.

"Nice chap," John commented. "He stole our first key for us…"

"And what has changed?" Gazelle asked. "Why are you revealing yourself now…"

"Because the world is changing," John replied, as he turned to face the crowd. "Because of me, thousands of Predators have been freed. But MILLIONS remain. Millions with dreams and hopes and love that they can't fulfil. That are cut off for them, as they are persecuted and maltreated by those that claim themselves 'the eternal victims'. I've got news for you though… nothing lasts an eternity. We split off and we've declared independence… but we're also all the evidence you need to know that the lies you've told yourself for generations are false. Wake up all you pro-collar Prey! Smell the coffee! Don't keep denying the fact that you're the bad guys in this, you are! And the sooner you accept it, the sooner you can start making amends. The world is changing… and you better hope you're not going to be left behind on the wrong side…"

Gazelle turned to face the crowd and smiled. "It is true what he says! Thousands of Predators took their lives into their own paws… and now they're finally brave enough to say that to our faces!"

"We could carry on living like this for hundreds of years… happy to be free even if we're poorer," John added. "But let's face it, smuggling things over was getting a bit tiring. Particularly when you end up picking persistent Bunnies as well…"

Judy blinked, as the screen suddenly showed a picture of her sitting on a blanket with the others. And then the picture itself blinked, and Judy squinted. And as the picture squinted, Judy, her nose twitching, turned to her side and saw Nick with a video camera in paw.

"WHOA!" she shouted in shock, as she scrabbled back and fell over onto her tail, turning in time to see her replay that to the entire city.

"Don't worry! She's safe!" John said, with a smug grin on his muzzle. "And also not pressing any charges…"

"…I uh… no," Judy stuttered out, as Nick swung the camera around to capture the whole crowd. The Predators around her turned and smiled, waved, whooped and cheered as Nick aimed the camera up at the screen, waiting a few seconds for the image to appear on the one in Zootopia.

"Nice feedback, huh!" John chortled, as a spiral of ever smaller screens began appearing. "I think that proves we're not lying here. A Bunny staying with a family of uncollared Foxes in a town of uncollared Preds… all safe and free from harm. This all being reported in the present, and all of it true."

"And what are your plans?" Gazelle asked.

"My plan is to reveal our little republic of free Predators to the world," John announced. "And use it to inspire our brothers and to rid the world of any excuse to treat our kind cruelly ever again… And it's not a plan. It's the new reality!"


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44:**

**.**

**Summer 2016.**

**.**

It was a bit of a strange feeling.

Every time I’d returned to Zootopia, I’d played character.

I’d had a job that involved subterfuge, subtlety, keeping up a mask.

I’d gone from house to house, telling Preds the truth about our secret and offering them a new hope. I’d collected runaway’s in the night and spirited them away to the start of a new life. I’d bartered and traded under the table, and stolen what I couldn’t get via legitimate means…

But now, every Prey mammal around me knew exactly who I was. My secret was up, as was my old job. I had a new duty now, and one I intended to fulfil.

.

Compared to our little town, the great city hall of Zootopia was a vast palace of opulence. On either side of me were great terraces of workers and records officials, all looking over a great open canyon whose floor I was walking through. Up above me, the stained-glass barrel roof was a chaos of colours, shining down as the sun filtered through and painting the marble floor beneath my pads a myriad of different colours. The air literally hummed with the sounds of thousands of mammals, all talking, tapping, breathing and walking. Loudest of all were the pounding feet of the elephant guard who walk by my side, his feet making one stride for every four of mine.

“A sem jen podepište a pan Swanson bude nejvíce potěšen...”

“I assume you want me to sign here,” I heard my father say and, looking over, I saw him walking next to me. He too had his own guard escorting him, a large Hippo.

“Ano prosím,” chirped the little Hedgehog to his side, who’d been scooting after him with a clipboard full of forms. Leaning over, my father quickly scribbled his signature down before the little mammal turned and hurried off to wherever he needed to go.

“And who was that?” I asked, curious as to why such a foreign sounding mammal was doing such important business in Zootopia. My father just looked over and shrugged.

“He’s the chief mammalian assistant to the Avarian ambassador,” my father replied back, “though why the ambassador chose a mammal who couldn’t speak a word of English I don’t understand.”

I chuckled, remembering my first encounter with a bunch of Avarians. While the chickens I later met had at least spoken proper English, with a recognisably Avarian accent, it still wasn’t quite the famous accent I’d been expecting. Though I hadn’t met the ambassador like my father, I’d expect that he, of all birds, would have the accent. Heck, from the sound of it, he was a Swan!

“What did he sound like?” I asked, piquing my father’s attention.

“Not Avarian, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he replied. “Midwestern accent, incredibly deadpan, stoic and emotionless and deep…” He turned forward, before sniggering slightly. “And, while it should be impossible for any bird, he’s got a giant moustache!” I turned to watch him snigger and giggle, trying to hold it all in. “I mean I knew swans had that black nobly bit on the top of their beak! But… I mean did he have implants! Dear god, you don’t know how much I now empathise with the Centurions in the Biggus Baculus scene!”

I smiled back, before turning forward, a thought lingering on my mind. “I mean that evil assistant mayor spoke with a welsh accent. His alter ego Scottish. Those tend to be Avarian… but where actually is Scotland? Where is Wales? Where’s the mid-west for that matter…”

“I don’t know son,” my father replied. “Sometimes I think this whole world has been set up by some higher power as part of an extended joke that only he understands… Regardless… we’ve got business to do with this mayor of ours.”

“That we do,” I replied, “that we do.”

.

.

_BANG… BANG… BANG…_

.

One of the guards knocked heavily on the door, which opened up to reveal a lavish office space. Looking out onto a rose garden, the room both looked old and felt old, with deeply varnished wood floors, panels and furniture. And on the other side of a great desk, stood the figure of Zootopia’s mayor, Swinton.

“Come in, please,” she said slowly. Carefully.

My Dad and I entered, with the guards that had accompanied us following.

“Not you,” she said softly, and I felt the rush of wind as the great guards behind us turned around to face each other, before looking back at her again.

“Mayor…” one carefully said, “We’re following these two to protect others as much as to protect them.” As if to prove his point, he piqued his mouth and pointed down at my father’s bare neck.

“Don’t worry about that,” Swinton replied. “I don’t like important meetings like this being crowded out… it quite disrupts the diplomatic mood, don’t you think?”

The two megafauna guards blinked, looking at each other for a few seconds before slipping out as quietly as they could. The floor squeaked and groaned as they exited, before they each grabbed one of the two doors and pulled it closed, the sound of the latches closing echoing around the room as we were sealed in.

“I must apologise for them,” came a curt little voice, as Swinton spoke. I watched my father turn to face her, his paw out. She looked down at it for a few seconds, looking back up, before carefully meeting it with her own trotter.

“Don’t mind,” my father replied, as he tightened his grip and shook harder. “And I must thank you for respecting our diplomatic immunity in this situation. As well as not treating us with the usual contempt that many others might give us.”

Swinton pulled her hoof back and settled it back down on her desk. “You treat me like one of the common Pred-haters whose votes I try to win over, I see?” she asked back. “In any case, any funny business and they can be in here and pinning you down in seconds, so it’s not like I have anything to fear whatever the situation…”

My ears pricked as I heard my father cough softly, before he shrugged and made his way over to a waiting chair. I followed, speaking as I sat down. “Don’t worry. Personally, I’ve had enough experience of being mammal-handled by megafauna for a lifetime…”

.

A soft silence spread over the room as we all sat down, my side looking at her as she carefully scanned over us. While I technically held the title of ‘foreign secretary’, it wasn’t like anyone ran courses on what had to be done. Swinton, meanwhile, had experience and plans and intentions that were a mystery to us. Neither my Dad or I had any idea of how well this meeting would go, and how much we’d get out of it. I gulped slightly, as Swinton chose to break the silence with a bit of conversation.

“So…” she softly said. “Is Pinehaven the name of your town or country? I heard you call it a ‘little republic of Predators’ before, but that name doesn’t really sound stately, does it?”

“Pinehaven’s the town…” my father replied. “And quite frankly, we don’t know what to call our new country. The islands were named the ‘Dovey’s’ by the Albatross that discovered them, but they’ve remained terra nullius until we settled down. We might run a competition or something, I don’t know.”

Swinton looked back at us with an ugly stare, one that sent shivers down my spine. I remembered it well, back when I was five and my father did his old Suitopia pitch. The look that had been on the bank-clerk who’d been happy to fund us until he realised what kind of mammals he’d be funding. A look of a mammal who couldn’t believe we had the cheek to try and improve our lot, and should instead know our place. I remembered what she’d said about the guards outside, and though my claws dug into the chair, I kept my cool.

“You understand that I’ve had letters, hundreds of them… thousands… Imploring me to annex your country,” Swinton said, mentioning it as if it were a trivial fact, “while several mammalian states have been pushing for a full-on scale invasion! They’re claiming that you’re rebels who need to be put down and subjugated to Mammalian law, else you will invade us; you could raid the eastern coast and take innocents back to slaughter… to eat… all while stealing the industry of our cities. Leaving them empty, failing husks while you live in decadence? Do you have anything to say to them? Or me, if I wish to follow them?”

My father chuckled, before shrugging. “I’ll say to you what I plan to say in front of the Mammalian congress next month. Ignoring the fact that we’ve ridden no-one of land rights and have fulfilled international law on territory claims ever since we’ve started, this is the overview of the world’s newest superpower…” he smiled, before drawing out his paws to list his points off. “We have the population of a large town. We have no army, no air force and no military navy. While we technically have a merchant navy, it is composed of three or so retrofitted and ageing fishing trawlers and not much else. We have no oil. No petrochemicals. All possible coal comes from a small hole we found by chance and is dug up by a small skid-steer. Our energy industry is composed of winter firewood and a set of small dams and turbines. We have no university, and no advanced research labs. Our steel industry once suffered a one-hundred percent decline in output for a few months when some idiot hit our sole Bessemer converter too hard with a sledgehammer and cracked it. We have no arms manufacturers, though one of our chief engineers did make some headway in setting one up in response to the sledgehammer incident, before her husband was able to calm her down lest she actually start making nitro-glycerine. We haven’t built any seagoing vessels large enough to properly classify our industry as ship makers, while our entire transport network is made from little trains who had their roots in hobbyists back gardens. Up until a few weeks ago, we didn’t even have our own independent currency! Do you know what this means, Swinton?”

“No,” she replied with a shrug, at which point I took over.

“It means we’re so harmless, all that talk is stupid!” I explained. “A few patrol boats could nullify any threat we could pose, likely for generations. A single destroyer could annihilate our civilization. And tell me, how would the majority of citizens, both Pred and Prey, react to the diplomatic equivalent of bludgeoning a baby in its crib?”

“And that’s not to speak of what other countries would think?” my Father added. “Especially Avaria, who we’ve been working to build some major diplomatic ties with.”

“And what would your little town have to offer them, to buy yourself protection and loyalty?” she asked, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I prepared to pull my ace from my sleeve.

“When we creatively purchased those medical supplies, what did we leave?” I asked.

“Silver bars,” she replied. “Worth hundreds, if not thousands, more than what you stole.”

“We’ve had a lot of spare time,” my father said. “And along with plotting out places for new towns and stuff, several of us decided to go around and see what bounties our island had to offer.”

“So, you have some silver mines?” Swinton asked.

“From what we can figure, we have several huge silver deposits,” I replied. “And not just silver. Lead, Copper, tin, you name it… And while it isn’t a bonanza, we have just enough gold to peg our new dollar to it, up until its value gets settled in of course.”

“Looking at some geology books, and records from areas with similar past deposits, we might have billions worth of ore,” my father replied. “We’re already setting up a very generous deal with the Avarians, where they get all mineral rights to one of the smaller outlying islands. Still could have several billion worth of profits in it though. In return, we have the might of their military backing us up.”

Swinton stood very still as she registered what had been said, before I spotted a tiny smile grow across her mouth. I could tell that she was thinking, and very proud of what exactly she was thinking of. “Let me guess”, she replied. “You want a deal like that, with us.”

My Dad shrugged slightly. “There may be an equally sized island next to the one we gave the Avarians… I’m sure that you’d be happy to build us a nice hospital and a proper port in return.”

“And they’ll be plenty of companies all hungry for a share of some of the larger deposits,” I added. “Ones who’ll make a good deal even when paying us some pretty big taxes. Whether Mammalian, Avarian or even Reptilian, they’ll make a pretty penny and I’m pretty certain that we’ll have far more than enough money to train all the doctors, medics, teachers, engineers, scientists and all sorts that we’ll need as we grow.”

“The Avarian’s are already lining up to sell us their high-altitude wind technologies, for when our little dams just can’t keep up with power demand,” my father added. “I’m certain that there are plenty of Mammal led companies, paying a lot of tax and employing a hell of a lot of mammals, who’d like their share too…”

.

Swinton was silent, scanning at both of us, something going on behind her squinting eyes. When she finally spoke, she did so very softly. “What makes you think you’ll grow that much? For all you know, your little town has reached its peak, and will remain as such forever.”

My dad shrugged. “If we don’t, we’ll still all be rich beyond our wildest dreams anyway… However, even if collars are completely banned everywhere, there’s a lot of poor, harried predators who’ll be willing to gamble everything to get a life where they can stand tall and proud, whether plying their trade or living off of the fat of the land. And given the thousands who’ve already made that trip, I don’t think the journey is anything close to ‘gambling everything’. This does, however, lead me on to one major point.”

“And what would that be?” Swinton asked.

“I think you can guess,” I replied, as I pulled my paw up to ruffle my uncollared neck. “If it were any other Pred coming here, he’d have to have one of those _things_ on them. You may have created collar free zones across the city, a nice start I might add, but we won’t do business with anyone based in pro-collar states. No matter how small that ‘Pro’ may be.”

“So,” my father added. “You’d better abolish them rather soon, particularly given that I’m off to Canidaea in a bit…”

.

“Well,” Swinton said, as a grin grew on her snout. “I must say thank you, my swords…”

“Swords?” I asked, as Swinton stood up.

“Yes,” she replied nonchalantly. “You’ve solved quite a Gordian knot for me…” I refrained from making a smutty joke as she turned, and walked towards one of the windows. “As a politician, I’m always trying to juggle my career with my legacy. It’s a tough balance. One you likely won’t have to face, and I must say I am quite envious of that, given that you’re effectively playing politics in ‘fun mode’. What with your super patriotic population, tons of free land and no spending commitments and such…” She paused slightly, as if realising she’d gone off topic and was trying to remember where she’d diverged. There was a slight shake of her head as she remembered. “Sadly, in terms of career and legacy, the former often wins out. Do you know what the worst kind of problem is?”

“I don’t,” I replied, as Swinton continued to look outside.

“It’s not the one that everyone complains about, and is in the news a lot. It’s the quiet ones. The ones that sneak up and grow like a cancer, until it’s too late. With the former one, people often get loud enough for you to know that you have to do a little something to keep things manageable. Take your trotter off the hot plate. Add a little bit every so often to a funding pot, to make sure a situation doesn’t boil over. The latter, well, you don’t notice you’re boiling until you’re soft and mushy.”

“Isn’t there a parable about boiling a frog?” my father asked, with Swinton curtly nodding back. I just waited as she carried on, wondering where this was going.

“People can whisper about it for a long time,” she continued. “You can try and solve it for a political term or two, making the majority of headway only for people to get fed up and pull out. Even if your political opponents either seem weak or too ridiculous to get anywhere, and you try and capitalise on a given outcome to lay the unpalatable foundations for prosperity decades in the future… well, that person may have an ace up his sleeve that he pulls out, which then turns into a giant spanner in your works. Your attempt at long term thinking can either cost you a victory that every sane person would have bet on or permanently weakens you so much that those future intentions you paid such a price to implement are blamed and never put into place after all, however beneficial or necessary they may actually be.”

“Can you get to the point,” I asked, as Swinton turned to face us.

“Crumbling transit infrastructure… environmental contamination from industry… regulation and constraints meaning it’s impossible to build enough homes… unsustainable finances due to an ageing population… and sometimes just debt… All things my contemporise have had to face, often by just brushing them under a rug and ignoring them, and all things I’ve been trying to stave off. But I’m as guilty as them and I’ve got my own demon to face.”

“Which is?” my father asked.

“This city, in its current state, will be bankrupt in less than two decades,” she stated nonchalantly. “The finances and stuff were weak in the planning phases. When built, we only got half or so of the residents required to properly pay the bills. That’s why we levied the climate finance taxes on all mammals, not just the ones in the three climate controlled districts. If I remember, that’s what destroyed Happytown more than anything. Before that, at least, it was affordable for everyone. After, you might as well go to tundra-town or Sahara square if you’re paying for it.”

“I remember” my father replied. “It’s the reason why I was trying to get a loan for a new store in the central city, after all.”

Swinton nodded slightly, before carrying on. “Ever hard the quote: I must study politics and war that my sons may have the liberty to study mathematics, agriculture and commerce. They must study those, to give their children a right to study art, music, architecture and literature…”

“It rings a bell,” I replied.

“People now study art, music, architecture and literature, and not much else.” Swinton said. “A lot of people claim they study politics and war, though I strongly doubt it. And the middle ground has been forgotten. As I said before, I’m always laid by the temptation to forgo my legacy for my career. So are all the others, and what does this mean? The climate and power systems of this city are on borrowed time, all after years of taking them for granted. Defer a replacement here. Avoid a tax rise there. It all builds up, and it’s something I too am guilty of, given that paying attention to it could have resulted in me not standing here in the first place. I do have a plan to shore everything up, though we need Avarian help to set up both balloon supported climate sheeting to cover the three main climate districts and slash energy leakage, and to build a high-altitude wind fleet to bolster our energy production. Even then it’ll be close given that we could replace at most half of our current reactors before they have to retire, even after all their lifetime extensions.”

I paused slightly, mulling what she’d said over, before it struck me. “And let me guess, this all costs a lot and your opponents will pounce on that. Lower taxes. Special benefits for anyone. Free this or reduced that, and they’ll snap it up. In five years, though… you’ll have…”

“The revenue that you’ve kindly seceded to us,” Swinton replied, a curt smile on her face. “Before, my opponents could make the citizens much richer for five years, ten years… maybe fifteen. A lot of people are weary and tired of those droning on about ‘the climate crisis’, especially given how life keeps going on for them regardless in this area. What climate crisis? It’s the crumbling roads and subways, and the other, ever more crowded services they feel far more. But they wouldn’t realise the alternative costs of not paying attention to the climate systems until it’s too late. Then they’ll be mad when the walls start to malfunction, and whichever poor sop who’s in charge will get the blame once Tundratown, buildings and all, begins to melt. Now though, you have thankfully made this a very palatable offer, given that you’ve kindly offered to finance the looming repairs.”

“And where do the collars come into this?” my Dad asked, his voice suspicious.

“I told you that Zootopia was never as full as it was designed to be,” Swinton said. “You give me a good excuse for banning collars, and the means to convince the many, many who are on the fence. I think that’s a rather fine legacy for me, while we can use it to draw Preds away from places that won’t ban collars for decades.”

“And let me guess,” I replied. “Poor preds fill up the empty houses in happytown at no cost to the city, buy food and services, and bolster the tax take.”

“And next time we need to repair the systems, we won’t require a begging bowl.” Swinton said. “In any case, more Preds mean we can also push forward a raising of the fishing quotas and bring in more employment. There’ll be the same diehard opponents of course, plenty of complainers, the odd hippy protest concert just like the old days, and of course hate events here or there on the internet talking about how I’m a wildlife murdering monster, but at the ballot box it’ll have enough support. We’ll also have port facilities going to and from your islands, requiring workers. And I’m certain you don’t want some big ugly ore refineries on your islands, do you?”

I looked to my father, and saw him smiling. “How do you know we won’t poach all your new Preds?”

Swinton gave a clever smile back, before speaking. “What did you tell me earlier? It’ll take decades to fully pack your island with Predators and even then, it could support say ten percent of the world’s Preds or something at most. Even with Canidaea making the same pitch, and the newly resurrected Katavulpia getting its share, Zootopia will have plenty to pick from.”

“And what about those prey who really don’t like that?” my father asked. “Are you so sure you can just let them go to your opponents?”

“You can entrust the vocal ones to vote with their feet,” Swinton replied. “After all, all these moving Preds will be leaving homes, jobs and school places in their old homes. I think you can entrust the irrational hatred of certain members of the public to sort everything out. It’s not as if this new Zootopia will miss them.”

My father paused, before a tiny snickering grin began to grow on his muzzle. “You are savage, you know that?”

Swinton paused. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that. Least of all in my favour. But I could get used to it.”

My father nodded, before lifting his paw and giving Swinton and long, hard shake. “It seems we have the start of a deal,” he said.

“Yes,” Swinton replied. “Mutually reliance, the best source of peace anyone’s ever come up with, and don’t you forget it.”

My father huffed at that comment and let go of Swinton’s trotter, bringing his paw back down to his side. “I must say, you are not just savage, but very sly and devious as well. If the stereotypes were true, I’d call you an honorary Fox.”

Swinton looked back and shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45.**

.

_Judy’s (3 rd) Diary. _

.

6th, August 2017.

.

It’s kind of funny. Back when I was first told to start writing a diary, it was because of an encounter with a savage (I think) Jaguar.

I’d vehemently refused that I needed to a journal. I’d protested, been as stubborn as a…

.

Actually no, I can’t really say that anymore, can I?

There were a lot of things I said in that first diary, as I vented and stressed out. A lot of terrible things. A lot of things that, looking back now, shame me. After getting back my original diary I did try and re-read through it. I managed once, but it was deeply uncomfortable. I tried a second time not too long ago…

I ended up having to put it down, put it away, and I don’t think I’ll be able to touch it again.

.

The thing that provoked me to stop was reading a passage about me thinking about how I used to think a certain way and congratulating myself on ‘self-improvement’. It was crass, vulgar and quite frankly false. I’d barely improved at all…

The trouble is, I think I’ve improved now. I want to believe that I’ve improved. That I’ve finally become a good citizen. That I’ve got these prejudices out of me, or at least am able to recognise that some of the feelings I naturally get are wrong/ unwarranted.

The trouble is, I thought that back then. Back when I thought terrible things. Back when I supported terrible things. Back when I did terrible things…

.

When I was ‘a guest’ under Nick’s roof, I talked about being so scared of there being blood on my hands, I was in denial. ‘Scrubbing’ them clean so much I never noticed how soaked they were…

The trouble is that now I can never be sure that the blood will ever be cleaned out. And it begs the question, given that I came to realise that what I thought was once a fundamental pillar of society was evil, what other fundamental pillars that I also support are evil?

.

I don’t know.

I don’t think I’ve ever known and I don’t think I ever will.

.

I said that all when I tried to resign, earlier today. Even though I’d risen up to being ranked detective, all these self-doubts had risen up given time until they became too much to bear. I always wanted to make the world a better place, but at that moment I believed that my actions could only ever make it worse.

.

Bogo shouted at me a lot, telling me that I was stupid. Saying that I’d stopped murders. Saved mammals from slavery. Taken down master thieves and put serial rapists behind bars.

.

I replied that I’d used that same logic to justify the things I’d done. The things I said… You know, all that.

.

And he sighed, told me that I was a great cop. A talented cop. And that I should take some time out to think about this. He told me that for every mammal I may have hurt, I’d helped a dozen. He said he’d be trying to get in contact with them so that they could meet me. Give me a confidence boost.

.

.

I went home after that. Logged onto the internet and told Nick. Or Sir Nick, as he joked. Saying that, as a foreign secretary, he might as well have a fitting title. I called him out on that, and he agreed. Lordy old royalty isn’t a personality that works for him. Doesn’t stop him from using it to annoy me though…

Anyway, he encouraged me to carry on. Carry on being a detective. After all, Prey on Pred hate crime has apparently been rising, and given how many more Preds are arriving in Zootopia (they’re up to 20% of the total pop now) that’s more mammals who need my help.

I think that put me at ease. Having the one mammal who called me out and challenged me more than ever being supportive.

Bit jarring, to be fair…

But then again, here I am talking to my kitnapper.

.

We talked quite a bit, and I told him how I thought that I was a bad person. But then he said that people make mistakes. He talked about he was so convinced that the ‘Savage mammals’ were a Prey conspiracy, he refused to believe in them until he saw one for himself. He said he was stubborn, and made a mistake, and sometimes you’re in so deep it needs a massive push to get you out. He said that, being able to make such a big mistake made him at least understand how Prey like me could make a mistake. He said I certainly made a massive one, but that I could blame it on my Prey instincts to fall into a mindless crowd.

.

Heh… It felt good calling him out for speciesism for a change.

.

It sort of changed my mind, and I told him that maybe I should try and keep on being this force for good in the world, and he agreed. He said I’ve always been a trier, and just because I tried in an ajar direction before doesn’t mean I should quit when I’ve realised I’ve gone off path. He said I should move back onto the right path, taking a step at a time, and I should be back there in a year or so.

.

I joked that I’d double down on that path, before Kitmas!

.

That made him giggle a bit.

.

Anyway, he rounded off by saying that I should visit some time. Meet his family again. He said his children and his parents liked me, and even Anita would give me a shot.

I asked about Hester, and he replied that she couldn’t wait to annoy the dumbybunny again.

.

I politely decline, and I said that I’d come to realise something. When I was young, I thought Zootopia was this magical place where Pred and Prey got one together. Turns out I was about as wrong as you could be. But however bad the reality turned out to be, there was a dream behind Zootopia. A dream that was slowly being pursued again, and that might one day be reached. But I told him that his country. The place he and his parents and all the other Preds made, truly was Zootopia. Not this stinky old city here. And that while the dream was worth pursuing here, it wasn’t worth letting Preds live downtrodden and oppressed lives for generations until it became a reality. All those Preds coming to my city were coming to ‘Zootopia’, but all those leaving for those islands far out in the eastern Ocean were going to Zootopia.

.

Nick said he enjoyed the usual vapid, hyper energetic me and that this was too deep for this late in the evening.

.

I laughed.

.

A lot.

.

And then he said something amazing. He said that his sister Lynn would have liked me as well. And he was sorry that she never lived to see me.

I said that I was sorry too.

.

.

.

I don’t think I’m going to quit. While Nick and co are building a new Zootopia out there, with thousands of Predators sailing over a year, there’s a broken one here that needs fixing. Out there, every joe just joins a ‘worker army’ for two years unless they’re a doctor or something. Fair enough, it’s what needed to build the new towns, dams, roads, bridges, trains etc… They’re even working on a proper parliament building, and have got engineering teams from Avarian to help build a proper rail system.

Here though, it’s not a simple job of designing and building new things. It’s winning hearts and minds. It’s inspiring dreamers to keep on pounding through seas that are far stormier for them than it is for others, to reach the shore on the other side. It’s hard. It’s messy. And it must be done.

.

And for the sake of Predators, and Prey, everywhere, it has to be done.

.

Well. Better call Bogo and tell him that I’m going back tomorrow.

.

There’s work to be done.

.

Judy Hopps. A dumb Bunny. Signing out.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: In some situations I may reference other work. In those cases, the source of the reference can be found in the authors notes of the FF.net version.


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